Complicated
by milkmoth
Summary: Neither of them wanted an arranged marriage, or a secret, or these *feelings*. Things are about to get messy... KyouxHaru. COMPLETE.
1. Accident

a/n: Well, I'm almost done with a _very long_ story I've been writing, so I decided to finally post this. xD Although until the final chapter for that story comes out, I won't be posting chapter two of this one.

Oh, and I don't know if Kyouya has a mother or not. I don't think I've ever seen her... for purposes of this story, he has one. Also, I'll be using honorifics in this story. I think most people know about these, if you don't it shouldn't be too big of a deal. The reason I mention it is because I might make a few mistakes with them here and there. So, in advance, I apologize.

Lastly: Please review with suggestions, comments, ideas, and constructive criticism. I love it all. :3

* * *

Ootori Kyouya sat at the end of the table, looking down at his breakfast. He took a small bite of the eggs, then slowly examined the two other figures at the table.

Their faces were nearly expressionless.

The only sounds were the clinking sounds of tableware. Yet again, his mind flashed to how it would be right then if Fuyumi was there – at least the discouraging silence would be filled with talk of trivial social engagements, new restaurants, or endangered animals.

But now, there wasn't a hint of whimsy at the table. All that Kyouya could detect in the air was pressure.

His father spoke. The words Kyouya knew so well, so well that he moved his lips silently to them.

"Goodbye, Megumi. Kyouya." He gave a curt nod to his youngest son.

_Succeed today._

He shuffled out of his chair, then picked up his suitcase and walked out of the room, his steps echoing.

His mother gave him a little smile, noticing her son's unnaturally vacant expression."You know he cares about you, Kyou." she told him softly. _You know he cares about you. He just doesn't know how to show it. _It was his mother's signature speech, meant to comfort him.

Kyouya shrugged, stood, and slung his school case over his shoulder. He had better get going. He had some Host Club business to deal with this morning.

As he was sitting in his limousine, he gazed out the tinted windows, bored. He hardly ever allowed himself this luxury (he should have studying this week's English vocabulary) but he found that it cleared his head.

Today his thoughts floated around lazily. It was rather relaxing. What crazy cosplay would Tamaki come up with this week? Hopefully it wasn't going to be one of those rare last-minute demands where Tamaki wanted him to come up with the costumes during lunch break. Last time he'd done that Kyouya had sworn that it would be Tamaki's last.

He hoped the twins would be willing to cooperate. Really, those two could be so unruly – even when something so trivial as a costume didn't suit them. They were fashion-minded, and it was difficult to please them when it came to clothing. Mori and Hunny, on the other hand, were like clockwork: both were unchanging and kind – perfect for business.

Haruhi. Now there was something interesting. She was always gentle and polite to their clients, no matter what kind of mood she was in. She was getting almost as good as Tamaki, who honestly enjoyed his work – how ironic that she was a girl!

A girl. A girl who posed as a boy. That was strange enough, but the fact that a girl intelligent enough to gain scholarship to Ouran posed in a host club – well, she was one of a kind. That was certain. But enough of her.

Thinking so much about Haruhi was not wise. He was already beginning to suspect that he might… _feel _something for her, but he'd never act upon such feelings. After all, he didn't want to set himself up for defeat. Or perhaps he didn't want to worry Tamaki. Tamaki wasn't aware of it yet – and neither was Haruhi – but he had the feeling the two of them would make a fine pair.

He pulled out his English textbook. That was enough pondering for one day.

* * *

"I cannot believe I did this." 

"You know you want to! Last-minute decisions are always the most exciting!" Tamaki cried, hopping joyfully around the room. He had been pleading to Kyouya to organize this since he had stepped into the school.

Kyouya adjusted his tall, troublesome bishop's hat. "Medieval," he said dryly. Tamaki was weighed down with heavy robes and jewels (yes, they were all real. Kyouya had rented them). Kaoru and Hikaru were wearing the outfits of nobility. Haruhi was wearing a loose, colorful peasant's outfit. Mori and Hunny were dressed as knights.

Haruhi glanced over at him and Tamaki. He watched as she sighed, and he smirked. He knew what she was thinking:

_How appropriate. _

He had to admit that the costumes were especially fitting today. Except Hunny's, although even his seemed to fit in its own way.

A girl – Gina Springfield, whom he quickly recognized as the daughter of the British ambassador - threw a flirtatious glance his way before looking away quickly. Kyouya pretended he hadn't seen her.

The Ootori family had no need for a diplomat's support at the moment.

Kyouya didn't treat guests. He had developed a technique for it after time went on, but it had never suited him. He preferred to be the brains behind the operation, stepping in only when he needed to. There were a few A-class ladies, that of course, he couldn't turn away. But generally his duties were fewer and farther between than anyone else's. If you didn't count the hours of planning he did work.

It wasn't so bad at all. He was really quite immersed in it – after all, the host club wasn't too different from a small - fine, _very _small – business. But a business nonetheless.

British ambassador. Hm. That reminded him, he needed to brush up on his…

"Is that English?"

He'd started muttering his vocabulary, memorized verbatim, without even noticing it. How silly. And how like Haruhi to notice.

"I have a test later this afternoon."

"I didn't think you'd be the type to study for tests, Kyouya-senpai. Or rather, the type who didn't need to study very much." She sat down in the chair across from his.

He gave the slightest shrug as an answer. "English is different, at any rate."

She looked mildly curious, so he continued.

"It's exactly that which spurs me. The sounds and letters are foreign; the speech pattern is nothing like Japanese. It's not just something you can glance over and understand."

She nodded, and smiled. "It's one of my favorite subjects. Probably for those reasons."

"Exactly."

"_Haruhi!"_ Tamaki grabbed his "daughter's" shoulder. "The guests will be here any minute! Please, get out of those clothes immediately!"

Haruhi gave him _the look_, and Tamaki instantaneously took a step back.

"_Mom!"_

Kyouya fiddled with his glasses for a moment. Then, finally:

"Yes, Dad?"

Tamaki's words poured out in a quick stream. "Why oh why oh why are you making our daughter dress in such a manner? Why doesn't she dress like our boys? There's no need to…" his eyes slid over to Haruhi's slitted ones, "_to hint at her… condition_…" he finished in a whisper.

"Tamaki-senpai. It's not an issue."

The twins nudged each other in the sides, and were watching the scene with their usual amusement.

"But-"

"Mori-senpai, would you please be so kind as to let our first customers in?"

"Kyouya! This _is _important, no matter what our daughter says! It is our duty as parents –"

"Places, everyone," Kyouya said briskly.

Tamaki immediately switched to host mode. As the first lady flounced in, followed by a crowd of other girls, he smiled debonairly at her:

"Hello, _hime… _what type do you prefer?"

While Tamaki was busying smiling at her, Kyouya examined her.

_New customer. _

"Um, are you, um, Tamaki-sama?"

The girl had lost every ounce of her nerve and was now blushing fiercely. "Yes, _hime, _I am the king of this third music room. I have never before seen your beautiful face… you are new to us, no? Please, assign a host." He gave her a welcoming grin.

The girl took in a quick breath – probably to keep from swooning.

_This one's particularly susceptible to his charm. She'll probably assign him. But that would, of course, fit with the statistics._

"My name is Anno Kayo." She gave a little bow. Her eyes were locked on the ground, her brunette bangs hanging down and covering them from Kyouya's view.

_This one is shy. But certainly, by the way she's reacting to Tamaki, an idealist in romance. Anno Kayo? Yes, that sounds familiar. Her father owns a shipping company. She's a first year._

"I-I would like to assign _you,_ Tamaki-sama," she offered shyly. He took her hand.

"Of course. Please, come with me."

The girl, suppressing a goofy smile, was led off to a table where a few other girls were waiting for Tamaki.

Kyouya opened the ledger and scribbled down the mental notes he'd made.

He allowed his eyes to slide over to Haruhi's table. She was pouring tea for the girls, wearing a soft, kind expression. She was a natural. She made people feel good about themselves, and welcome in her presence.

It made it hard to tell what her true feelings were.

It was easy to see when she was annoyed, pleased, or – in rare cases – frightened. But it was not easy to see whether she saw Tamaki as a friend, or something more.

Good Lord. Why did he _care?_

_"Are you all right?" He reached down and took her hand, but she pulled herself up without his assistance._

_Her eyes were, as usual, bright and wide – with a slight curiousity in them. "Kyouya-senpai?" He withdrew his hand, raising an eyebrow as if to say, _"What's so strange about this?"

"_Ah, I'm fine. Just tripped." She put a thoughtful fingertip to her chin and stared up at the ceiling. "Today hasn't exactly been a good day for me."_

"_How so?" He had the strange urge to be chivalrous and carry her books, but it passed quickly._

"_I came in second place on the exams again."_

"_Do you need tutoring? I'm afraid you can't leave the host club until your debt has been paid."_

_Her eyes widened. "Don't say anything to Tamaki-senpai or the others."_

_He couldn't help chuckling a little. He knew what she was thinking: those fools would insist on 'helping' her._

"_I wasn't speaking of them. Jonuichi Ayame still owes me a favor."_

_She met his eyes for a brief moment. She was interested, but didn't want to ask._

"_It was nothing important. I just sold her one of Tamaki's spare pens at a greatly reduced price."_**  
**"I can't believe they buy that stuff…"  
_"Believe it or not, she owes me a favor. Do you need the tutoring?"_

"_I should be fine." She gave him one of her smiles, which even he would admit was adorable. _

"_Do you need time off? I suppose it could be arranged."_

"_How much would I owe you?" she asked grimly._

"_Hm?"  
"You'd add it to my debt, right?"_

"_No. It would be for the overall benefit of the host club. We'd lose money if you did not ace this next exam, were dropped from Ouran, and could not pay off all of your debt."_

"_Kyouya-senpai…" her voice was hesitant. Again, she was curious but did not want to actually know the answer. "How much have you added to my debt since I've joined the club?"_

"_Only what I've notified you of, Haruhi."_

_She was quiet for a moment, as they continued to walk to the host club._

"_I thought… I thought that you were constantly adding on. For example, when you asked Jonuichi-san to tutor me. I thought you just wanted me to owe you."_

_Kyouya admitted to himself that at one time he had thought of doing that. Initially, he'd charged her for every kimono rental, for every inconvenience. She had intrigued him from the start – a little commoner lost in a sea of riches and play-acting. He wanted to keep her around as long as possible, thinking that she would run given the chance. _

_But as he got to know her – got to care for her – it became apparent that this was like a second family to her, and that running was the last thing on her mind._

"_Did you want me to owe you something other than money?"  
Was it something other than money that he sought?_

"_Just gratitude."  
She smiled at his honest answer.

* * *

_

Finally, their day was over. Kyouya shut his notebook and nodded towards Tamaki. Tamaki acted at first as though he hadn't seen, but after Kyouya glared daggers at him he hurriedly stood up.

"Ladies, princesses, we wish that we may spend more time with you but life is fleeting and we must part ways. May we have the joy of seeing your lovely faces tomorrow, and may those beautiful stars that are your eyes never stop shining. May your smiles -."

Kyouya cleared his throat. Tamaki sighed dramatically and finally finished up.

The "princesses" then began to say goodbye to their respective hosts, and hurried out the double doors in giggling groups.

As soon as the door shut on the last customer, Haruhi gave a relieved sigh. "Well, see you tomorrow," she said brightly. Tamaki gave her a puppy dog look.

"Haruhi! Can't you stay for just a little longer? It's Kyouya's and my turn to finish up some of the business!" Business meant cleaning up and preparing for the next day, under Tamaki's conditions that they must learn to feel Haruhi's pain of living a common life (where one cleaned up one's own messes).

She hesitated, but then:

"Well, I suppose I could help out. Dad won't be home until late tonight, so I'd just be eating dinner alone anyway."

Tamaki joyfully threw his arms around her. Kyouya, for some reason, felt a little sorry for her – he knew what it was like to be alone. There were nights where he would eat at his huge table by himself, not even bothering to have the lights turned on…

Haruhi twitched in Tamaki's arms, but did not make her usual attempt to slide away. She was adjusting to his copious amounts of affection.

"Haruhi," Kyouya said, tapping his pencil on his notebook, "please collect the tea sets used, so that I may take them home and have them washed. Tamaki, you'll box up the leftover cakes for Hunny-senpai."  
"And you?"

"I will supervise."

Haruhi gritted her teeth against a reply. Actually, Kyouya would be working on arrangements for the next day's refreshments, but it was much more entertaining to see her annoyed reaction.

Tamaki, after a lot of trial and error (he was over-excited about cleaning up the commoner way) finally managed to clean up the cakes. After a tearful goodbye ("You'll see me tomorrow, Tamaki-senpai…") Haruhi allowed him to give her a light hug.

Again, Kyouya noticed how much she was consciously letting Tamaki touch her. She had always been lenient with the twins – obliviously letting them lick her face and flirt with her. She had barely batted an eyelash when he'd cornered her in a dark room.

Why was it that her walls were always up around Tamaki? Why did she treat him differently? He blinked, and suddenly it was clear.

Could it be that she was _in love?_

In the case of a practical girl like Haruhi, could it be that she was trying to deny her feelings?

It was just him and her now. A silence hung between them, reminding him of the one that had taken place between his parents and him that morning. But as was Haruhi's way, it was pleasant silence, something more companionable than cold.

He turned toward the window. It was nearly dusk.

"Haruhi."  
She turned her head toward him, pausing herself in the motion of picking up a saucer. Unconsciously, he felt himself smiling.

"Let's pick up these last few tables. It's about time we went home. We certainly had a lot of costumers today, didn't we?"

"Small… talk… Kyouya-senpai?"

"You're right. Sorry."  
Why was his face inches from hers now?

She stared up at him casually, yet he could see that even she thought something odd was going on. She blinked. He couldn't have ever felt more alert, as though every second was drawn out. His breaths were light. His heart… why was it pounding?

What…?  
His face was inches from hers, when suddenly her eyes reached unheard of limits of wideness and took a step away. The throbbing in his head stopped.

He had been about to kiss her. Oh God.

"Kyouya-senpai?" her voice barely betrayed her surprise. His bold actions could not even pass under _her _radar, this time. There was no excuse.

"Pardon me," he apologized, taking a small step back and nervously pushing his glasses up.

She gave him one last tentative look.

_This never happened._

He helped her to pick up the last few teacups. The silence loomed now.

"You may go now."

She nodded.

"Well, goodbye. See you tomorrow." She managed a little smile, probably still puzzled over what had taken place. She wasn't the only one.

Standing there like a fool, he suddenly remembered her familiarity with Tamaki… it was obvious.

She didn't think of Kyouya in that manner. No, more likely that was how she thought of_ Tamaki_. But that would fit, wouldn't it? Seventy percent of the girls requested Tamaki… Now he was confused. Haruhi wasn't like other girls, was she? Wasn't she different?

Kyouya suddenly felt he might throw up.


	2. Arranged

a/n: I told myself not to update until I finished the final chapter of my other story, but I have writer's block so bad on that one, and this chapter is all pretty and release-ready... Okay, rambling is over. I'm guessing no one else minds. :)

Thanks to every single reviewer. xD Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"Kyouya!"

She opened her arms for a hug. Kyouya looked at her coolly, but he couldn't deny that her presence was refreshing. The second he'd walked through the door, he could feel a different sort of energy in the house – something lighter. Which could only mean Fuyumi. After all, _something _good had to come out of this day.

She sighed. "Have you gotten too old to give me a hug?"  
"You haven't given me a hug since I was seven."

"Goodness, have you been keeping track?"

He opened the door to his room, plopped his book bag on the floor. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked distractedly, his customary response to her infrequent visits. "Shouldn't you be with your husband?"

Fuyumi touched her cheek thoughtfully. "Can't you just greet me nicely? That's no way to treat your older sister!"

He just sighed and rubbed his temples. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them quickly. It was like Haruhi was glued to his eyelids.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, taking off his glasses. Perhaps that would help his headache to recede.

She watched him for a moment as he spread out across his sofa. It was unusual for him to do such a thing – he'd always insisted that sofas were for sitting, and beds were for lounging on.

He felt sick. His stomach was in knots, and he felt as though he might vomit. Even Fuyumi saw that he was pale, paler than usual. And not like himself.

"Kyouya…"

"Fuyumi, leave me alone." She stood quietly, and started walking out of the room.

"But…" his voice was weak, forced. "I might need a waste basket," he finished, sounding thoroughly disgusted with himself.

An instant later, he felt Fuyumi's cool hand on his head. "You're really sick," she fretted.

"It's probably just nerves. Leave me alone."

_It's true. I've made a complete fool of myself. _

He wished this was just a normal stomach bug. Then he could puke and be done with the matter.

He felt Fuyumi's eyes on him now, as if something had just clicked into place in her mind.

"You never worry about schoolwork," she noted, "so what is it that's bothering you?"

Kyouya turned on his side to face the back of the couch. "Nothing."

"Is Tamaki mad at you?"

_He will be if he finds out about this, _he suddenly realized. But he doubted that Haruhi would mention it, and God knew he wouldn't.

"No."

"Are you in love?"

He turned very deliberately and slowly to give her his trademark death glare. Fuyumi drew back instantaneously. "_No_."

But Kyouya knew that was not enough to scare her off. She might seem ditzy, but she could match even his father in her determination – when she wanted to. Usually, this was when she was prying into his private affairs.

"Is it one of your customers in your club? That's odd, because Tamaki said you usually don't speak with them much." She covered her mouth, muffling a giggle. "Are you shy with girls?"

Kyouya just gritted his teeth and hoped this would pass. Her presence was grating on him more and more, and at this rate he wished she would just _go home. _Besides, what was she doing talking behind his back with Tamaki?

"I'm right, aren't I?"

This time Kyouya didn't respond.

Fuyumi prodded his back gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"She couldn't care less about me," he said flatly. There. Maybe _now _Fuyumi would be satiated.

She paused, and when she spoke her voice is full of emotion – something between concern and awe.

"You really care about her."  
He snorted. He should've known better. Now that his sister had gotten a taste, she was clinging on – no matter how he tried to shake her off.

"I really am a fool," he continued, trying to close his eyes. It was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Haruhi. And he knew that if he were to fall asleep, he'd dream about her.

Nightmares, of course.

Now he was talking more for his own benefit than for Fuyumi's. "I thought I had it under control. I told myself it wasn't worth it."

Fuyumi put her arms around him. He ignored her, but really it made him feel a little bit better.

"It's _always _worth it," she whispered passionately.

* * *

He came down to dinner a couple minutes late. He didn't have any appetite, but his parents were home tonight and insisted that they all eat together.

Well, at least he didn't feel sick anymore. Fuyumi actually ended up making him feel better.

As he descended into the dining room, he felt that something was… different. But the change was slight, and by all appearances it was a regular dinner. Of course, Fuyumi was present, looking slightly happier than usual… but that wasn't the real difference. It's almost as if there's electricity in the air, like before a thunderstorm.

He watched his father take a sip from his drink, wiped his mouth.

"Kyouya, I've picked a new wife for you. You'll make a good match – it will be very beneficial, I believe."

Ah. So is _that _what this was about? Another arranged marriage? The last one was five years ago, and had ended six months after the announcement. Kyouya hadn't particularly liked the girl. She was too accommodating. Perhaps this time, if the girl was intelligent enough… He wouldn't mind it. In fact, it was good timing.

After all, there was some comfort in knowing there was no need to worry about Haruhi – or any other girl – because he already had a fiancée. Kyouya took a sip of his water, suddenly feeling a bit relieved.

But sad? Why did he feel sad? How silly. He was_ relieved. _

Not sad.

Right?

"She goes to your school. Her name is Fujioka Haruhi."  
The water Kyouya had just sipped went down the wrong pipe, and Kyouya let out a sudden, hacking cough.

_Oh dear God._

The calculations were done in an instant: this situation would not end well.

* * *

a/n: Well. This isn't your cliché KyouxHaru arranged marriage, I'll tell you that. I intend to put a (hopefully) original spin on it. Stay tuned. xD 


	3. Someone, Someday

a/n: Thanks _so _much to everyone who's reviewed! (and special thanks to everyone who's given a nice, long review). I've been on an uploading spree, haven't I:S I hope everyone likes this chapter... Basically: Haruhi finds out. She is not happy. A lot of people are unhappy, actually. Read on. xD

* * *

Late that night, Kyouya desperately punched a series of numbers into his cell phone. He knew the number by heart. 

The phone rang for a bit, prolonging his agony. Finally, a flirtatious and chirpy voice answered.

"Hello, this is Ranka-san… What can I do for you?"

Immediately Kyouya' s entire demeanor changed. He put on his best "host voice". "Why, hello. This is Kyouya."

Ranka's voice became overwhelmingly friendly and enthusiastic. "_Kyouya-kun! _How are you? How's my baby doing? Is she eating enough? I'm worried she's looking thin lately… I wasn't home to make sure she ate her food tonight. She went to bed right away, poor girl…"

Kyouya recalled the way Haruhi had stuffed her first taste of ootoro into her mouth earlier that week. "She's been eating fine, don't worry."  
"Ah, good! What else is new?"

"Ranka-san, I'm supposing you haven't gotten a call from my father?"

He breathed and didn't exhale.

"Actually, I have! Isn't it exciting?"

Kyouya felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. It took a moment for him to catch his breath again.

"Are you saying_… you agreed?"_

"Well, I told your father I'd consider it. But who else is better to take care of my darling Haruhi? You're the only one who bothers to check in with me, and I know how kindly you must treat her!"

_Ha._

But more importantly, he couldn't let this happen to Haruhi. She didn't love him.

_This isn't really about Haruhi, _he tried to convince himself, _it's about me. _

If she didn't love him, then fine, he wouldn't bother with her. Yes, that was his new outlook (or was it an alibi?). She wasn't worth it, whatever Fuyumi might say. What would Fuyumi know anyway? Her marriage was arranged.

And Tamaki… Fuyumi didn't have a Tamaki to think about.

"Ranka-san, I beg you to reconsider."

He sounded puzzled. "Why?"

"Just… think about it. And wait for just a day or so before saying anything to Haruhi, at the very least."

"Well, Kyouya-kun, I haven't quite made up my mind _yet._ But I can promise you some time," Ranka said gently, still sounding confused.

Kyouya punched the "off" button on his cell phone and flopped down onto his bed. It mussed up the sheets, but he was too frustrated to care.

He went into a sorry excuse for sleep.

When he woke up the next day, it was obvious that he was pissed – Tachibana and the others attendants knew that something wasn't right. Kyouya didn't wake up on time. Not even after the third alarm clock started ringing.

Sign number two: when Tachibana went to wake him up, Kyouya was still wearing his uniform, although it was now severely crumpled and wrinkled. His backpack lay untouched, indicating that he hadn't so much as started on his homework for the night.

Tachibana gingerly poked the Shadow King in the back. To his credit, he stayed strong even when an aura of evil began to emit from Kyouya.

"What the hell do you want?" Kyouya grunted, every word cutting through the room.

"Sir," Tachibana gave a quick, nervous bow, "It's time to get up, sir. Or you'll be late for school."

Kyouya violently grabbed the alarm clock and gave it the dirtiest glare Tachibana had ever witnessed – and that's saying a lot, having worked for the Oootori family all his life.

"Thanks to her, I didn't get any sleep," Kyouya muttered.

"What was that, sir?" Tachibana asked fearfully.

Kyouya glared at his attendant. "Make sure I have something to eat waiting for me. I'm afraid I won't be able to breakfast with my family today, due to my own negligence." He shook his head bitterly.

He had tossed and turned for hours that night, and at three in the morning he had awoken, unable to fall back into sleep until much later.

He didn't know how his father knew about Haruhi – that she was female, at least - but he knew Ootori Yoshio had connections. Perhaps through the school chairman, Tamaki's father.

He looked down at his crumpled clothing and winced. He'd have to change, he couldn't go to school in this.

But there was still the question ringing in his mind: _Why? _Why did his father want him to marry Haruhi? She was not rich, titled, or heiress to some grand business. She was intelligent, though, and had all sorts of potential to blaze her own trail in life. Kyouya himself had always been confident in that.

Perhaps part of it was the publicity. An Oootori and a commoner? Maybe it was because he was the third son – he was of no particular use to the company, and so his bride was not terribly important, either.

He felt his eyes narrowing as he put on his tie. Whatever the reason, he was not happy with his father right now. Jerking Haruhi around like that was not fair in the slightest. She would not be pleased, and neither was he.

* * *

"Haruhi?" 

He'd been acting unusually all day – fidgeting, almost falling asleep over his clipboard, and so distracted he didn't even notice Haruhi had dropped one of the antique rose-patterned tea cups.

"Yes?"

"I know I'm interrupting your hosting time, but would you please come with me? I need to speak with you."

She looked at him curiously, but stood and followed him into the hallway.

There were a few students about, walking by periodically, but the hallway was quiet. Perfect.

Still, Kyouya knew he wouldn't have the guts to tell her what was going on. He could only prepare her for it. He knew he was a coward, but what else was new?

"I want you to know that I never asked for what's going to happen, and that I had nothing to do with it," he told her swiftly, professionally, as soon as the double doors to the third music room had shut.

She looked confused, and with good reason. "What…?"

"And I want you to know that you have every right to say 'no'. In fact, I hope you do," he continued in a business-like manner.

"Kyouya-senpai, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Discomfort passed through his eyes. "That is all. You may go back to you customers now."

"Kyouya-sen-"

But he had pushed her – a bit roughly – back into the room.

As soon as Haruhi walked through the door and took of her jacket, Ranka waved frantically at his daughter. "Welcome home! I'm back from work early today! To celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

Her father smiled, holding Haruhi in suspense for a whole thirty seconds. Of course, Haruhi didn't much care. She just waited patiently.

Your _marriage_!You're going to be married." He frowned, suddenly looking uneasy.

Haruhi stood there for a second, processing this information. Then she went rigid.

"_Married?_"

"To Ootori Kyouya!"

_Th-that was what he was talking about…_

_"To Kyouya-senpai?"_

His eyes looked wet as he continued.

"Think of it Haruhi! They'll pay for your college tuition so you can go to as nice a law school as you'd like! You'll be able to wear beautiful clothes all the time, and I'm sure that Kyouya will take care of you! And…" he trailed off.

"Dad?"

He sniffed. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry."

Haruhi didn't reply.

"I thought this was for the best. I just wanted… wanted you to be taken good care of."

"I don't love him," she replied suddenly.

There was quiet for a moment. Then:

"I thought that your first priority was a career. And I thought that this was the best way to start one. The Ootoris will take wonderful care of you."

"I don't love him," she repeated, staring blankly down at the battered carpet.

Ryoji lifted his head to examine his daughter. His eyes were wet, brimming with sadness.

He put his arms around her and began to stroke her short hair. "I didn't think that would matter to you. I didn't think you really cared."

"But I do. You and mom… I wanted to be like you and mom…"

He froze with the memory of his late wife. The memory of a happy, for once carefree, little Haruhi. He tightened his embrace. "Is there someone you love?"

Her face hardened. "No," she denied, a mental picture of Tamaki flashing through her mind for less than a second, "But someday. I always thought that someday…"

"Then I'll cancel it. Forget I said anything."

A dark look came over Haruhi's face.

"I think I need to talk to someone."

She slipped on her jacket and slammed the door behind her. Ryoji observed. It was unusual for him to see his daughter so angry.

_I hope she doesn't hurt Kyouya-kun. He really... does love her.

* * *

_

She gaped, amazed by the huge, modern-styled, mansion. But then she swallowed her doubts and pressed the speaker button outside the gates of the Ootori mansion.

"Who is this?"

"Fujioka Haruhi."

The lady screening the visitors audibly ruffled through her papers.

"I'm sorry, are you scheduled to visit?"

"It's concerning a marriage with Ootori Kyouya. You could say that I'm his fiancée."The words felt so _wrong _on her tongue. _Not for long, _she consoled herself.

The lady waited a moment more, and Haruhi was worried she won't be admitted.

"Ah, I see. Please come in."

The gates swung open with an electronic click, and Haruhi walked up the long pathway to the front doors.

When she knocked, a maid answered. She was cute and looked rather young, maybe twenty. "Do you have some form of identification, Miss?" she asked brightly.

Haruhi dug out her student I.D. and handed it to her. The maid had to look back and forth from it to Haruhi for a moment, but she finally nodded and handed it back.

"You looked cute with long hair," she commented. Haruhi shrugged. "Well, welcome to the mansion, Fujioka-sama!"

"_Sama?"_

"You're Kyouya-sama's bride. Almost everyone knows about it." The maid sighed dramatically. "And we were all hoping to take him for ourselves one day!" She giggled.

Haruhi felt a bit awkward.

"I would like to speak with Kyouya-senpai, please."

The maid cocked her head, probably wondering why Kyouya-sama's bride-to-be still thought she needed to use honorifics with him. But she obediently directed Haruhi up the stairs, when suddenly she was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal.

"Oh, it's you! Really you! I've heard so much about you!"

Haruhi turned to see a girl – she acted as though was in high-school, but it was apparent from her looks that she was old enough to be finished with college.

"I'm afraid I don't know you," Haruhi said gently, feeling more awkward than ever.

"I'm Kyouya's sister!" she beamed, "Fuyumi! You can call me just Fuyumi, since you'll be my sister-in-law!"

This woman seemed so nice that Haruhi didn't want to inform her that she had no intention of ever being such.

"It'll be wonderful to have another girl around! I've grown up with a bunch of solemn _boys_ all my life! We'll do each other's makeup, and have sleepovers, and have tea together! I'll be the perfect big sister!"

Haruhi inched away from her. There was something Tamaki-like about this girl and her silly fantasies. After all, Haruhi was much too old for sleepovers, didn't wear makeup, and has never understood the purpose of tea time.

Suddenly, she felt a hand grabbing her wrist, and she looked around.

Kyouya.

She immediately gave him a nasty look, but he acted like she was hardly present.

"Fuyumi, stop bothering her. She and I need to talk."

"Have fun you two!"

Kyouya trudged up the stairs, dragging Haruhi behind him.

"What's going on here?" she hissed.

Once they were in his room – Haruhi couldn't help but let her jaw drop at its size and the money that must have gone into it – Kyouya sat down on the couch and motioned for her to do the same on the one across from him.

"I'm sorry."

Haruhi's mouth had opened to start lashing out at him, but the words were lost. Did he just _apologize? _For all the time she'd known him, Haruhi had never before heard Kyouya apologize for anything.

She softened.

"I just want to know what's going on here."

"Don't think that this was my idea." He paused. "The lastthing I wanted was to marry you."

She shifted uncomfortably. "Then we both agree that this marriage shouldn't happen?"

"Precisely."

She looked him straight in the eye, looking slightly uncomfortable. For Haruhi, anyway. It seemed as though some thought had popped into her mind. "I just want to know… what you were going to do the other night. Were you going to kiss me?"

He didn't miss a beat. "That meant nothing. It was just a misstep. I shouldn't have stood so close to you, but I wasn't about to _kiss _you."

It was a lame excuse, and he knew it. But she fell for it anyway, looking relieved.

"Good, that makes a lot more sense."

His heart felt heavy, but he shrugged it off.

"Look, Haruhi, this is the situation: Neither of us wants this marriage. I have my reasons, you have yours. I don't know _why _in _hell _my father wants us to get married, but he does. And Ootori Yoshio can be a very intimidating man."

Haruhi thought about an adult Kyouya and shuddered.

"How can we get him to call of the marriage…?" he mused out loud.

"Well, my father is going to cancel it."

Kyouya's eyebrows furrowed. "That might not be enough. Ranka-san owes a lot of money, doesn't he?"

Haruhi was embarrassed, but she nodded. "He buys so much over-priced clothing that we're swimming in debt."

"It pains me to say this-" he did look genuinely pained "-but I did some research and my father owns about a third of the companies you owe money to."

Her eyes widened.

"It wouldn't be a smart move to make him angry."

"But… he couldn't do anything about it, could he?"

"My father can be scary when he's rejected."

Haruhi could only imagine. She knew what Kyouya would say: _My father has his ways. _Thinking again of Kyouya, Haruhi didn't doubt it.

"So what will we do?"

They sat in silence for a while, the gears of each one's mind working at a furious pace.

"I think," Kyouya said slowly, "that we will have to play pretend for a while."

He didn't sound happy.


	4. Trust and Conflict

a/n: Chapters might be coming slower now. I'm a little bit stuck on the next chapter (I keep thinking, should the scene go _this _way or _that _way?) I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and remember: I love, love, love reviews. Especially the long ones. :D This chapter doesn't have much of a flow to it - which bothers me - but otherwise I'm pretty satisfied.

* * *

He'd never had such an awkward drive in his life.

She sat placidly staring out the window, as if she did this every day. He simply observed her.

They had agreed to keep this engagement a secret. No one was to know. Not a word was to be spoken. Haruhi had gone home and told her dad not to say anything to Kyouya's father, so it looked to their respective families as if the engagement was on.

They knew differently.

For now, they would pretend. And when the opportunity rose to break off the engagement, then they would grab it.

The last night, Kyouya had barely gotten sleep (again). So, as was usual when he didn't get enough rest, he was agitated. He had stayed awake late into the night devising a strategy… which had somehow turned into daydreams about what it would be like married to Haruhi.

What was wrong with him?

After all, if they _were_ married, he knew quite well what would happen: Haruhi would be unhappy. They wouldn't speak. He wouldn't be able to bear it.

They got out of the limousine only to have Tamaki spot them and brightly rush toward them. "Haruhi! Kyouya! Come here!"

Kyouya smiled, for a time forgetting how hurt Tamaki would be by his actions.

He had tried to block out the memory of the beach house as well as he could. It surprised even him that he'd done such a thing. Acting on impulse, even for Tamaki's sake, never lead anywhere good. But, more vividly than Haruhi's smile, he remembered the look on Tamaki's face. It was wild, cruel, downright angry. Something Kyouya had never seen and never wished to see again.

Tamaki cocked his head to the side. "Why were you two riding together?"

Haruhi opened her mouth – probably to explain their situation – when Kyouya nudged her swiftly in the ribs.

"Haruhi needed a ride to school today," he explained curtly, "because the pollen causes her allergies to flare up."

"You should've called me!" Haruhi merely sighed and walked past him. "Good morning, Tamaki-senpai." While Tamaki rambled on and on about Haruhi, Kyouya watched her walking over to the school doors, where she was greeted by the twins. The two promptly put their arms around her shoulders, but she walked on without giving it a second thought. The twins looked happy, and Kyouya once again noted how much friendlier they'd become since Haruhi had joined the club. It briefly crossed his mind that Tamaki wouldn't be the only angry one if word of their engagement got out…

He felt his whole body tense with a new thought, one that hadn't occurred to his sleep-deprived mind before now: if word of their engagement got out, everyone would know Haruhi was a girl. Sure, people like Renge might get a thrill from it, but Haruhi's designators might be crushed. It would cause people to distrust the host club, which was the last thing he wanted.

"_Just another complication," _he murmured to himself.

"What's that?"

"Tamaki, didn't you want to do another cosplay this week?"

And Tamaki was off, taking a mile a minute about a cowboys cosplay. Kyouya couldn't help but grin. _Too easy.

* * *

_

"I wasn't going to say anything, you know. We agreed not to say anything."

He just looked her over suspiciously, even though he knew very well that she was right – he'd been too hasty.

"Haruhi-kun? Kyouya-kun? What are you doing out here?"

"Renge!" Kyouya turned to face her, his face transforming into a warm smile. "Do you need to make reservations for our annual sakura blossom tea party?"

For just a split second, Renge's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but they took on their usual wideness immediately. Her words came out in a squeal. "Oh, yes! It should be spectacular! I want to spend the day with Haruhi-kun!"

* * *

"Father says you should spend the day with Haruhi." 

"Why are you still here?"

"Osamu is away on business. Besides, it was easy to convince Mother to let me stay." She hesitated for a moment. "I played my trump card."

"And what would that be?" He was trying to catch up on his homework, which he'd neglected to do for the last two nights.

She paused, gathering her breath for the grand revelation. Oddly enough, she didn't sound very happy about it.

"I-I'm having a baby!"

He looked up, stunned at this sudden news. "Really? Fuyumi… are you ready for that responsibility?"

She looked hurt. "Of course. You should act more excited, you know. You're the first one I've told. Besides Mother, but I would've rather it been you."

"Wait. Your husband doesn't know yet?"

Fuyumi looked nervously over at the wall, averting Kyouya's gaze. "I don't know what he'll say."

His eyebrows furrowed together, and he put down his pen. "That's silly. Why wouldn't he want to know about his child? It's an heir to his company, that'll be enough to get him excited, even if he doesn't like children."

Kyouya had met Hamata Osamu only a few times. The man was dry. He seemed to care for Fuyumi, but his patience was limited and he snapped at her often. He was not the type to want a noisy child running around, though Kyouya knew that no child would dare make noise in the Hamata household.

Fuyumi looked down at her wedding ring and twisted it on her finger, a nervous habit. "I try so hard to be the perfect housewife, but he doesn't seem to care. He'll probably think I'm a bad mother, too, I can just see it. Even before I have the baby, he'll be scolding me about what I eat and..."

There was quiet.

"You'll be a wonderful mother."

* * *

_Tell me what I'm doing here again? _

Haruhi's eyes wandered around the room. It reminded her of Kyouya – cold, metallic, clean. Expensive.

A _date_. With the Shadow King. Haruhi wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Kyouya had assured her she didn't have to do so- after all, it was just part of what they had to do.

"Someone will be with you shortly, Fujioka-sama," the maid popped in to apologize.

_How can she work at a place like this? _

"Haruhi! I'm so glad you and Kyouya are going to have some bonding time!" The bright voice echoed throughout the room, somehow managing to fill it.

"Oh, er, Fuyumi. I guess I'm waiting for you?"

"Yes!" She took a step back and looked Haruhi up and down. It made her uneasy, reminding her of Hikaru and Kaoru when they were sizing her up for a new outfit.

"You _do _have tomboyish taste," Fuyumi commented, nodding slightly to herself.

"Excuse me…? Who told you…?"

"A dress would look so adorable on you, but I don't suppose I could make you wear one…"

"Who said anything about making me change?!"

"All right then! Something tomboyish-cute!"

"_Wha-?"_ But Fuyumi had already taken her hand. "Come on! Something pink… Hmmm…"

_I worked so hard to get Dad to stop bothering me to wear a skirt,_ _all for naught.

* * *

_

She smiled uneasily. "So, what should we do?"

After having clothes too girly for her tastes forced onto her, Haruhi was feeling out of her element. She wished for the comfort of the sweater she'd been wearing, even if it _had _had a teeny little hole in the one sleeve…

"I don't know."

"How about some place fun? We might as well enjoy ourselves, right?"

Her attempt at lightheartedness went unrewarded. Kyouya just continued to watch her coldly from behind his lenses.

"Should we go for lunch?"

Unexpectedly, his lips curled up into a smile. His eyes brightened to match. "Maybe commoner hamburgers?"

She eased up and smiled, too. "Anywhere you'd like."

* * *

She slurped the last drops of the smoothie before tossing into the waste basket. "Where to now?"

There was another awkward silence.

"Haruhi," his voice was strangled, slightly, betraying some unusual emotion other than confidence. "I've been thinking. Do you really believe we'll be able to cancel this?"

They both knew what he meant by _this. _

Her eyebrows rose. "Don't you?"

"Well, of course."

"Then I do, too."

He studied her. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" Her eyes were not closed.

"Play along, Haruhi."

She looked curious, but did as she was told. "Just tell me why I'm closing my eyes."

"You'll see. You have to promise me you'll keep your eyes closed."

She nodded.

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her straight into a wall.

Or, mere centimeters from it.

"What was that about? Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yes."

She turned, looking unamused. "So?"

"You're too trusting."

"Huh?"

"I just did that to show you," he said, "you're too trusting. I could've pushed you into that wall, but even when I started to push you never opened your eyes."

"That's a bad example."

"I'm making a point."

"I guess you _could've _pushed me into the wall, but you obviously _didn't._"

He paused, blinked. She'd caught him.

"I trust you. I don't see why I shouldn't. Well, most of the time," she reasoned.

He found himself grinning. That was Haruhi. Sensible, reasonable, trusting. Wonderful..

"Let's go. Does the bookstore sound all right to you?" She smiled.

"It's a good thing you're not like my sister. Whenever I go shopping with her – which I try to avoid at all costs – she spends hours in these boutiques. It's unbelievably tedious."

"Your sister is kind of… er…"

"Different from me. I know."  
"But you seem to get along all right."

He shrugged. "I suppose. I've never gotten along with my brothers that well."

She looked at him through the corners of her eyes, then changed the subject.

"Unlike the places your sister drags you, the bookstore will be profitable to us both, right?" she asked jokingly.

He smirked. "Depends on who's paying."

* * *

He ended up, between the two of them, buying a stack of books. People thought that Kyouya was tight with his money - and he was - but what they didn't understand was that he wasn't cheap. If he felt like profited enough from spending money, then he was fine with doing so.

The look on her face when she saw his purchase was enough.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

"Hmm?"

"I actually had a good time today." She gave him her brightest smile, the one that Tamaki frequently melted over. "Thank you."

She'd caught him again. He didn't admit it to himself, but Fujioka Haruhi, without even knowing it, held his heart.

* * *

"How did it go? Did you compliment her on her clothes?" 

"Passably, I suppose. And no, why would I do that?"

Fuyumi actually seemed surprised. "I dressed her especially for the occasion! Besides, you always compliment a girl. We like that."

"You shouldn't have bothered. I think Haruhi would've preferred her own clothing. And, for your information, I don't really concern myself with what Haruhi is wearing."

"Are you telling me you never look at what women are wearing?"

"Sometimes."

"Hm?"

"When I want to know how expensive their outfit is. It's helpful in calculating a family's rank."

"There's no hope for you."

"I don't care what she wears, okay? Leave me alone."

"Don't care? At all? Even if it's super cute?"

"No."

"Then you really like her," Fuyumi confirmed.

"Go away."

* * *

He shut the door behind him. His father's office, as usual, was dim and somehow intimidating. 

"Ah, Kyouya."

"Yes, Father?"

"Fuyumi mentioned that your time with Fujioka-san went well." Kyouya winced. _What else does she tell him? I should go behind her back and tell him about his grandchild-to-be…_

"It went smoothly."

"She really is a fine girl, that Fujioka Haruhi."

"Yes, Father."

"I've been telling my friends-" _read: business rivals _"-about my son's brilliant fiancée. With the support of the Ootori family, she'll become a world-renowned lawyer." He smiled slightly to himself. Kyouya's stomach lurched.

He hated it when his father spoke this way.

"After your betrothal a few years ago, it's common knowledge that I've been careful in selecting brides for my sons."

Kyouya nodded.

"Everyone is clamoring to meet her. They don't even know her name, but they're curious now. You'll bring her to the charity ball next Saturday night, and you'll officially be presented as a couple."

Kyouya tried to restrain himself from reacting. This was not good. It might be part of his father's scheme, but it was not part of _his _plan.

Wait…

_He hasn't given them Haruhi's name yet…? _Kyouya almost smirked.

Maybe there was hope.

* * *

a/n: Eee! xD There was the cute KyouxHaru fluffiness, but I promise there will be more next chapter. And just when things were going well... Kyouya's father introduces a new problem. D: I hope the fluff was in character - I think I did all right with it.


	5. Nothing Like That

a/n: I really do enjoy writing this story. :D I have the whole thing planned out, and I never find it too hard to sit down and write. I know that everyone wants to know how the KyouxHaru thing will turn out, but another thing to think about is _why _they're in this arranged marriage anyway. Also, yes, there's a bit of a love triangle going on involving Tamaki. _But _all of the host club members have a thing for her… and I promise that this is labeled a KyouxHaru for a reason. Read on, and remember to leave a little review! (Or a big one… that's good too). xD

* * *

It was a lovely day at the host club. Cherry blossoms floated gently in the breeze, and all seemed peaceful. The first visitors were cooing over Hunny, squealing over the twins, and fainting in Tamaki's arms. 

Tamaki was constantly slipping eye drops into Haruhi's hands. "_Take them!" _he'd whisper urgently, "_for your eyes!" _Haruhi winced.

_He probably thinks I can't afford allergy medicine._

Still, Haruhi was touched that he remembered, even if it wasn't true. Recalling why the lie had come aboutcoupled with Tamaki's sweetness, made her sting a little.

Kyouya walked past her, discreetly slipping something into her hand.

_I have bad news, but there's hope. Talk to me after club; I'll meet you at the southern end of the courtyard by the largest sakura tree. No one ever comes, so we'll have some privacy._

By the way the note read, it almost sounded as though it was discovering a lover's tryst (thought it most certainly wasn't). The thought didn't cross Haruhi's mind, but her forehead wrinkled in concern. Something was wrong? She slipped it into the pocket of her Victorian suit (today's cosplay) and went to greet her first two costumers, banishing any worries from her mind.

"Excuse me for the delay. How are you ladies today?"

Momoka, Haruhi's class vice-president, smiled warmly. "Lovely. How are _you_ today, Haruhi-kun?"

"Well, I have some troubles on my mind. But nothing could stop me from being here." It was true, and that was Haruhi's strong point – both in hosting and life.

Renge, her other designator, just watched Haruhi as though she was her favorite anime. There was just a bit of regret deep in her brown eyes. It was unusual behavior, to be sure.

"We're having real English tea today, imported. Would you like some, Momoka-chan? Renge-chan?" Momoka helped herself, as always, to a small portion. Haruhi knew from the way Momoka would glance pitfully up at her that she was saving most it for Haruhi.

_The rich… they can be so ridiculous…_

"Would you like me to pour you a cup?"

"Thank you, that's would be lovely." Momoka flushed and poured the tea carefully.

Renge just stared thoughtfully into her own cup, watching the slightest wisps of steam rise from the liquid's surface.

She could see why Kyouya chose this place. It was the least used part of the (insanely large) courtyard. It was less elaborate here, older. There weren't any benches and the walkway was nothing grand like the area the host club used. Trees grew thick and tall.

She noticed Kyouya's shaded figure under the tree and quickened to meet him.

"What's wrong?"

He cut to the chase. "My father wants you to appear at a charity ball next Saturday night."

She looked perplexed at his grim expression. "Is that all? It might be boring, but there'll be food, and…" Realization dawned on her face. "Oh."

"Right. You simply can't attend – not as my fiancée. There'll be parents of Ouran students there, and many students themselves."

"Everyone will know I'm a girl."  
"Exactly. And word of our engagement will be out. My father's been telling people about my new betrothal, but he hasn't told anyone who the bride is to be. Not yet, anyway. He likes to be dramatic when it benefits him."

Haruhi twitched. _Not too far from Kyouya-senpai._

"So there's hope."

A bird chirped, but other than that there wasn't a sound to be heard.

"Or not," Kyouya admitted.

"I don't have to go," Haruhi offered.

"Of course, but he still might reveal your name." He cupped his chin in his hand. "We need something that will throw him off and bide us time. But I can't think of a thing, and believe me, I've lost sleep over it."

Subtle as the changes might be, Haruhi could tell. The way his eyes were dull instead of sharp, the way his movements had a sort of sluggishness to them.

"I'd better go," she said distractedly, playing his words over in his mind. "I still need to take off this costume. And Kyouya-senpai?"

"Yes?"

"Get some sleep, okay?"

_This one looks boring… I've read this one before… Dad got me this one for my birthday… _

If there was one thing Haruhi loved about the rich bastards at Ouran, it was the money they put into their library. There was more than enough material to quench her taste for the written word. She didn't have very much free time, as was the fate of a scholarship student, but that didn't stop her from picking up a book every so often. And now, more than ever, she needed to take her mind off of things.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Renge-chan?"

Renge put a finger to her lips, signaling Haruhi to be quiet. She smiled brightly. "Haruhi-chan, I-"

"You mean, Haruhi-kun, right?" Sometimes customers liked to be cutesy and address her as Haru-chan, like Hunny did. But only Hunny could get away with such a thing.

"No, no, Haruhi-_chan_," she replied knowingly, shaking her head. She had the look of having staged this incident in her mind, a scene on replay.

It took a moment for it to register. "… How?"

Renge clasped her hands together and gave a triumphant, pronounced sigh. "It took me a while to process it, but I eventually faced the truth: and what a beautiful truth it is!" She took a deep breath before continuing. "A cute girl, forced to cross-dress to get close to her love, the icy-cold megane character. He was kind to her when she was a child, holding her as she cried, lost from her parents. He reunited her with her mother, and from that day on, she was in love!"

Haruhi's eyes widened. "You're way off base," she said quickly, "that's not why…"

_Wait. Does she know about Kyouya-senpai?_

Renge didn't seem to hear her. "She toiled to get into Ouran, to get closer to him! But he was still the brightest, most handsome son of a millionare, and she only a commoner! Alas, she did not catch his eye, and she knew that if she designated him he would never return her affections. She knew that she had competition in the form of Tamaki, who was also secretly trying to woo him!"

"_Tamaki? _Wait, there's no way_-!"_

"To get closer to him, if only as a friend, she posed as a boy. Enter Renge. Short-lived fiancée of said boy. Haruhi realized her feelings of jealousy as he and Renge got closer. But wait! She's designating Haruhi? Now he found _he _was jealous! For a while, he's confused about his sexuality, but soon he discovers her true identity and love begins to blossom!"

Haruhi flushed. "There is no _love blossoming! _And furthermore, you've got it all wrong!"

Renge blinked. "But a cute girl cross-dressing to get closer to her love…"

"Is not realistic!"

Renge looked disappointed.

"The real story is this: I broke an expensive vase, and am paying back my debt by being a host. There is no _love _involved; they are all rich and stupid. Except Kyouya. He's just rich and evil."

"So you admit you _do _have feelings for him!" Renge's eyes were alight once again.

"… I didn't say anything like that."

"But you must!" Renge whined, "I mean, I saw you together!" She looked up at Haruhi with pleading eyes.

Haruhi blinked, thrown off-guard. "When?"

"There was the day outside of the host club. You were talking about something being secret. I automatically assumed it had to be a relationship."

_She's pretty close, but her logic is a mess…_

"At that time, of course, I assumed it was two beautiful boys confused about furthering their friendship or not." She got a dreamy look in her eyes. "I even started a doujin for it. Want to see?"

"No," Haruhi said hastily.

"That's all right, it's only half done. I abandoned them when I found out you were a girl. I was at the mall this weekened-"

Haruhi suddenly understood. "Wait, why were you at the commoners' mall?"

"Well, Haruhi-chan is a commoner, and I thought I should make an effort to understand your culture. It was rather dirty and crowded, but… oh, the glory of the video game store! The wonder that is the manga section!"

"So you saw Kyouya and me in the bookstore."

"Right. And you were wearing distinctly feminine clothing."

_That's right, _Haruhi realized, _thanks to Fuyumi…_

"Renge," Haruhi said solemnly, going slightly pale, "this is important: you can't tell anyone about me being a girl. I need to stay in the club to repay my debt, but if you tell I won't be able to."

Renge winked and gave her a thumbs up. "Don't worry! Your secret is safe with me!" She grinned.

"Thank you, Renge."

"Oh, to think I'm co-starring in this epic love tale!" She nearly swooned.

Haruhi decided to keep Renge's discovery to herself – and not to tell Renge that her and Kyouya's "_epic love story" _was an arranged marriage neither wanted.

For now, at least. She doubted Kyouya would be happy someone had figured out they had a relationship – if you could call an arranged marriage that.

* * *

The next day brought more strife. If only she weren't such a klutz… first breaking a vase, now this…

Hunny was scampering about, running underfoot, as was usual. He was playing his loli-shota part for all it was worth. He was just like a child, all giggles and tiny footsteps. "Catch me if you can, Takashi!"

One girl almost fainted from the moe overload.

Haruhi, on the other hand, was rather stressed, thinking of this and that. Basically Renge, Kyouya, and the charity ball. It was Tuesday, the ball was less than a week away. Maybe…

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was holding a very heavy tray, which was hard to balance.

She tripped over Hunny.

Hunny's cry came first, a mournful, " Ouch! Oh no_, Haru-chan_!" Then some gasps and murmurs of concern but, for some reason, some fangirlish squeals, too.

Next, Haruhi felt a couple of cuts on her body, but more than that, she could feel the burns the boiling-hot tea had given her. She groaned with pain.

She heard an '_mmph!" _within very close vicinity. Thank goodness she'd landed on something so nice and…

Soft? Warm?  
She opened her eyes. She had tripped on Tamaki, and somehow, their lips had connected. She drew away immediately, and she could feel her face going pink. There were even more whispers of, "_They're so cute!" _from the girls.

If Haruhi was blushing, then Tamaki was on fire. He was a definite shade of red. "S-s-sorry, Haruhi!" It seemed as though he might collapse of lack of oxygen.

A voice parted the crowd. It should have been honey-sweet, but now it was nothing but cold. "Excuse me, pardon me, miss, I need to get through."

His eyes widened just ever-so-slightly when he saw the angry red burns on her skin.

Haruhi looked up, although she was mostly preoccupied with the searing pain of the burns on her stomach. She bit her lip to block out the pain.

"Haruhi, you're hurt. Can you get up?" The voice, still frigid, belonged to Kyouya. A not-very-happy Kyouya.

Tamaki gasped. "Haruhi! He's right!" He grabbed her hand. "You're burnt! And you're cut! Here, let me-"

Kyouya firmly took Haruhi by the shoulders and pulled her up from Tamaki. "I'll take him to the nurse."

"_Haruhi, do you need your father to kiss it better?"_ Tamaki whispered earnestly to her. She gave him her _look _and he quieted, but he still had a look of worry in his blue eyes.

"Haruhi, we need to go. Now."

One girl shouted out, "Someone call 911!"

Kyouya silenced her with a dark look. He deliberated, but decided that the first priority was getting Haruhi's burns checked.

"You can walk, can't you?"

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. _Ouch. _That tea was _hot. _

There were a multitude of girls who wanted to accompany their beloved Haruhi-kun (or simply ogle the two beautiful boys together) but the angry, almost dangerous look on Kyouya's face kept them in the room, whispering to each other.

* * *

_This arranged marriage is the worst thing that's ever happened to me._

Kyouya was sitting outside of the nurses office, twiddling his thumbs. And Ootoris did not twiddle their thumbs.

He was a worried about her,that was true. Even though the burns couldn't _possibly _be serious. But, strangely enough, he found himself more upset over the position she'd been in than her burns.

The worst thing was, when he didn't know her as well, he wouldn't have cared if she was kissing Tamaki. He would've been amused by the shade of red Tamaki had turned. And he would have been worried about her burns at all. If he were to think rationally, it was highly unlikely that they were serious…

He'd started to care about her, and it was scary.

The nurse poked her head out. "Ootori-san? Fujioka-san isn't badly injured, although his burns are fairly bad. He'll probably need some ointment, nothing major." Kyouya pushed past her into the room, and finally exhaled when he saw that Haruhi was looking herself again. Of course, there was a sore-looking red spot on her left cheek where she'd been burned, but otherwise she was Haruhi. She was all right…

"Kyouya-senpai? Why do you look so happy?"

"I'm increasing your debt for breaking that tea set. Don't ever trip like that again," Kyouya replied, sounding relatively cheerful.

She widened her eyes. "_What..?"_

"_My poor daughter! _Nurse, how is she? Is she mortally injured? Is she scarred for life?! _My poor Haruhi!"_

"Tono… shut up."

Hunny dashed in and grabbed Haruhi's leg. "Haru-chan, Haru-chan! Are you okay? I'm sorry!"

"I'm fine, Hunny-senpai," she consoled him. She looked up at Mori. His face, normally stoic, betrayed concern. She smiled. "Don't worry, Mori-senpai." He smiled back.

Tamaki squeezed Haruhi, almost strangling her. "Never worry me again! Are you all right? Oh, Haruhi!"

She pushed him off, her eyes blazing. "Don't touch me…. _Kissing demon."_

Tamaki's eyes widened pathetically and he whined. "It – It was an accident!"

"That kissing demon…"

"Can't control his perverted thoughts."

"I bet he psychically willed that to happen, Kaoru!"

"To his own daughter! Despicable!"

"_No! Mommy, help!"_

Kyouya didn't reply. He's eyes were still on Haruhi's burn.

* * *

The next day, Kyouya and Haruhi had another meeting under the sakura tree before class started. This time, it had been Haruhi who scheduled it.

"Renge knows about us."

His eyes flashed dangerously, but he kept his voice level. "About everything?"

Haruhi hesitated. "She thinks we're really in a relationship. That is, she doesn't know about the arranged marriage… but yes, she knows everything."

Haruhi observed his face for any sign of displeasure, or anger. But instead, she was surprised to see his face break into a slow, deliberate smirk.

"Maybe we should conduct some business with her."

"Eh?"

"I think Renge-chan might be the missing piece in solving our dilemma."


	6. In Which Kyouya Catches On

a/n: I feel like I'm giving Renge some sort of depth she doesn't have in these chapters… . I hope she's okay. Anyway, yeah. Chapter six: _In Which Kyouya Snaps, Haruhi Comforts, and Renge Fangirls_.

Also, I didn't do one earlier so here's a disclaimer:** I don't own Ouran**, and don't claim to. I'm having non-profit fun writing fanfic. (Note the 'fan' before that 'fic').

_Much thanks to all the reviewers! _xD I can't express how happy I am at the reviews I'm getting. :3

* * *

"So… it's an _arranged _marriage?" 

Instead of looking disappointed, Renge looked interested. Almost too interested. Haruhi fidgeted in her seat. "Yes," Kyouya replied calmly.

The two hosts members and their self-proclaimed manageress sat in a quiet corner of the fifth library, discussing "business". After all, Renge was still their part-time manageress (as well as a customer) and this gave them a perfect pretense.

"But…" Renge sighed and flushed, "it_ will _become something more! Two people who bitterly hate one another brought together!"  
Haruhi and Kyouya exchanged a look. They decided to leave Renge to herself in her fantasy.

"There's a charity ball coming up, and I can't attend, even though Kyouya-senpai's father insists on it. Kyouya-senpai thought perhaps you could attend in my place, because you're really the only one other than us who knows about this arranged marriage."

Renge cupped her chin in her hand. "But why are you going to all this trouble? Your identity will be out sooner or later, right?"

"That's true," Kyouya cut in, "but we're trying to bide as much time as we can. Haruhi might have some problems if she straight-out refuses this marriage. I can't go against my father's wishes. If she attends, her identity will be out for sure. And if she doesn't attend, her identity will be out anyway. We have to set it up so that my father won't say anything, fearing that he'll look a fool."

Renge nodded. "I see! That's clever."

"So will you do it?" Haruhi asked somewhat timidly.

A wise smile tugged at Renge's lips. "I'd do anything to help true love."

Once again, the two ignored Renge's over-romantic sentiments. But little did they know, there was something about them this time that rang true.

* * *

"You really will look beautiful," Fuyumi told Haruhi as she fingered the material, "although I know you don't like dresses." 

Haruhi gritted her teeth. It wasn't so much that she didn't like dresses. She didn't have anything against them, although they were more cumbersome than boys' clothes. She suddenly felt a lot of pity for Kyouya, who had not been exaggerating when he'd told her how tedious his sister's shopping habits were.

Though they weren't technically shopping, Haruhi _was _picking a dress for the ball. Or rather, Fuyumi was. The two were in Fuyumi's old room, which was strewn with dresses of every color, cut, and style.

Haruhi was currently wearing… well, she really didn't care what she was wearing. She had lost count of how many dresses she'd tried on. There wasn't a single dress that she wanted to wear, although she was sure they were all very nice. To be honest, the price tags scared her. She'd glimpsed the zeroes on one and almost fainted.

"You really don't have to go through all of this trouble," Haruhi said weakly. Fuyumi merely smiled.

"Father said that I wasn't to spare any expenses when finding you a dress," she said firmly. Haruhi felt a pang of guilt, remembering that she wouldn't be wearing this dress, anyway.

Fuyumi flopped down on her bed happily.

"You'll be so pretty," she said quietly, "And you'll be such a beautiful bride, I'm sure of it."

Haruhi nervously smoothed out the edge of the dress, not knowing what to say. Careful of wrinkling the expensive material she was wrapped in, she sat down next to Fuyumi. _Ah. _Sitting down felt so good.

"You'll be composed - nothing like me," Fuyumi continued sadly, "I was a wreck."

"I'm sure all brides are somewhat-"

"I fainted twice beforehand." She paused, then lowered her voice to an ashamed whisper. "During the ceremony, I felt so lightheaded I could hardly manage my vows."

"Maybe that's common."

Fuyumi sat up abrubtly. "Oh, I'm sorry to be so depressing," she fretted.

"No, it's-"

"Here, try on this one." Fuyumi picked up the nearest piece of clothing, a ruffled pink dress that Haruhi wouldn't be caught dead in.

"Having fun?"

Haruhi turned to glare at him, noticing his flippant tone. Fuyumi pressed the dress she was holding against Haruhi's small body. "Do you think this one would look better on her? Kyouya?"

"I think either would look lovely."

Fuyumi beamed. Haruhi felt herself go red – unnoticeably so - though she had no idea why.

* * *

"They really had a lot of adorable dresses, perfect for Haruhi, but I wanted something a little more... _cute. _So I went to this boutique that just recently opened, it's run by-" 

"Fuyumi," It was her father's voice. He normally didn't speak, didn't react, just ate. But when he did speak, it cut like a knife. Fuyumi fell silent. "When are you going to go home?"

Fuyumi's mother sucked in a breath and looked down into her lap.

"Next Sunday night," Fuyumi replied quietly, "the day after the charity ball."

Ootori Yoshio nodded and turned back to his food. Kyouya's spoon paused on its way to his mouth, for just a split second.

The rest of the meal was the usual, looming silence.

* * *

_Hold you head high. Tilt your chin upward. Eyes straight ahead. Body erect. Good._

Like they did every time he made an entrance, the words ran through his head. They were the words his mother had repeated to him as a child. "_Kyouya, hold up your head … good, now tilt your chin up…" _She had been his advisor in all things society-related, and not much else.

He could felt Renge's arm around his, as she warmly smiled at all of the guests. He tried to keep his cool, slight grin on his face, tried to keep from frowning. She'd grown up in society, as well, and should've known better than to be so open.

No matter. The two descended down the stairs, and the turning point was past. He caught his father's expression out of the corner of his eye – his mouth was a hard line, and his eyes weren't visible from behind his glasses.

In other words, he was angry.

Kyouya almost smirked. _Take that._

"Are you Ootori-san's fiancée…?" it was a woman, who he vaguely recognized as one of his father's associate's wives. She was looking at Renge with well-cared for teeth and a fake smile.

"You can call me Renge-san," she said kindly, "and no, I'm not. He's just escorting me as a friend. Why do you ask?"

The woman's smile remained in place, but she blinked a few times and looked puzzled. Her husband came to her side. "Ah, is this young Ootori-san and his fiancée?"

"No," Renge repeated, "I'm not his fiancée. My name is Hoshakuji Renge."

The man's face lit with recognition. "_Aaah," _he murmured. "You lived in France for a time, didn't you? But your father works here… Ootori-sama and I have worked with him before," he explained.

"Yes, that's right. Mother and I moved to France when I was ten. I moved back here to go to Ouran just this year."

Kyouya took a closer look at them. These were the Annos – the parents of Anno Kayo, the new host club customer. In fact, she'd made her first designation only a couple weeks ago… He darkened slightly with the memory of all that had happened that day.

"Mother! Father! Tamaki-san is here," she said eagerly, hurrying up to her parents. She noticed Kyouya and Renge. "Oh, hello," she added politely.

Her mother sighed. "Go on, go talk to him." The girl blushed, stole another glance at Tamaki, and hurried over to say hello to Tamaki.

"Such a silly girl," her father said affectionately when she was gone, "head-over-heels for that half-French boy."

Kyouya gave Renge an imploring look and she nodded.

"Have you two ever heard of _Hana-Kimi?_"

The two adults looked at each other perplexedly as Kyouya slipped away to chat with his friend.

"Ah, Kyouya! _Mon ami_! Father said you were coming with your fiancée…" he cast a glance over at Renge, who looked confused. Probably wondering why the Annos had never heard of _(insert random anime title here_). His mouth fell open.

"_Renge?!?"_

"She's not really my fiancée," Kyouya said, before realizing that Tamaki would start asking questions.

"So who is it?"

"No one you would know. Most of these things are cancelled within a month, anyway," Kyouya covered smoothly. His heart sank, realizing in his bones that lying to his friend would come back to bite him eventually.

"Why's she here?"

Kyouya shrugged. Tamaki dropped the subject.

"To marry for power…" his face clouded over uncharacteristically. "A horrible thing."

Kyouya looked him over. "Hm?"

He expected his friend to be dramatically opposed to such practices, being a romantic, but he never expected Tamaki to react so seriously... He hoped that Tamaki wouldn't be melancholic all night for this one comment. It was just like him to be plunged into a dark hole of despair… But - _wait, _how careless of Kyouya to say such a thing. Tamaki's whole situation stemmed from an arranged marriage.

Tamaki lifted his head and nodded over at his father, who was speaking to Ootori Yoshio. "Oh, look,"

Kyouya observed blankly. "That's unusual. They don't talk that often."

The Suohs and Ootoris, after all, were business rivals. There was an exchange of facial expressions, first Kyouya's father was smiles and charm, the way he usually acted at these functions. But then Suoh laughed, companionably patting his father on the back (which Kyouya happened to know his father didn't like). His father twitched.

Suoh didn't notice and said something, still laughing. Kyouya could see the anger in his father's eyes now, and he was both intrigued and happy at the same time. Because they were business rivals, it must have been that Suoh made some comment about the absence of Kyouya's fiancée – which his father had taken hard. Kyouya grinned just ever-so-slightly.

"My father was talking of getting me engaged, too," Tamaki told Kyouya, who turned back to his friend. Tamaki traced the pattern in the table, wanting to distract himself. "But he said she was nice. He said I'd probably like her." He thought for a moment. "I don't know who she'd be." There was a lapse of silence as Kyouya's brain went into overdrive, coming up with one conclusion.

"_Damn him" _Kyouya cursed under his breath. It was all too clear why he was getting married.

So his father could beat out his rival for Haruhi.

* * *

Kyouya made his way outside, to the street. The air was chilly for a spring night. Kyouya wasn't wearing a coat over his suit, and he felt a bit cool. Crickets and bugs chirped, cars whizzed past on the street. A few cherry blossoms floated by in the breeze, and a giggling young couple walked by.

Kyouya sat down on a bench.

He didn't want to do this anymore.

He felt like he was going to break down. He wanted to go back. Back to when he did what his father said without questioning it, when he supported Tamaki without afterthoughts, when he thought Fujioka Haruhi was nothing more than an interesting commoner.

A chill overtook him, but it wasn't thanks to the weather.

He sat there, staring at the sidewalk for a while. Eventually, he'd gone back to the party, just when they were about to leave. He had timed his re-entrance well.

* * *

When the limousine came to pick them up, Kyouya knew it wouldn't be a good fourty-five minutes. The ride home with his father, mother, and Renge was long and tense – Renge and his mother talked politely about something, but he was glaring daggers at his father the whole time. Yoshio hardly noticed, although he gave Kyouya a reproachful, angry look. 

Now he sat in his room. Fuyumi would know by now that Haruhi hadn't come. She would be disappointed, considering how much she'd fantasized about their little ball. But Fuyumi was married, about to have a child. She should have known that nothing came out as the pure fantasy she envisioned.

Without thinking, he dialed a number. He didn't know why; there was no logic to his decision. He just numbly, unthinkingly pressed the buttons.

Her voice was muffled, but it was still hers, and somehow just hearing it made him feel better.

"Hello?"

He paused. He didn't know what he should say. After all, Haruhi would no doubt think it odd that he was calling her at this time of night.

"Haruhi. It's Kyouya."

Now _she_ paused. "Kyouya?"

"The charity ball went fine. Renge didn't seem to mind."

Her response was unexpected."Did it really go fine, senpai?"

Another silence.

"No."

"Are you all right?"

He was vulnerable. It was something he didn't want her, or anyone else for that matter, to see.

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. I'm not all right."

"Do you want me to visit? Would it make you feel better to talk?"

"Don't bother yourself."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure if I want to tell you over the phone."

"Is it confidential, or just difficult to say?"

"A little of both."

"Okay. Is that all?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

He didn't hang up. Neither did she.

"On the count of three?"

He smiled, but of course she couldn't see. "One?"

"Two."

"Three," he finished. He clicked his phone off.

A warm feeling flooded through him.

* * *

a/n: Eee! xD HaruxKyou cuteness! I wanted to have Kyouya blow up at his father, but that'd be extremely OOC (at least at this point). 


	7. Broken

a/n: Oh, the angst! (Please, don't come after me with pitchforks or other sharp objects!). This was not a happy chapter to write, and it was a rather difficult one as well. It just wouldn't get the way I wanted, so I had to keep re-writing bits. So, chapter eight isn't finished yet either (I kept a steady lineup of chapters until now, for the most part). I've no idea when that'll come out, but it shouldn't be too long.

This doesn't focus on Kyouya and Haruhi, but its rather revealing about them all the same. As always, reviews are appreciated. :3

I do not own Ouran. :)

* * *

For all of Sunday, Kyouya holed himself up in his room. 

Only now did he realize the repercussions his actions would have – he had just taken a huge step back from his goal – his goal to inherit his father's legacy. But that wasn't all that plagued him.

He knew Fuyumi came by a few times. He could picture her, hesitating outside the door, her eyes concerned, but quietly deciding to leave him alone.

He knew his mother came by once – she knocked, but when Kyouya didn't answer, she left.

His father didn't care.

* * *

For all of Monday, it rained. 

A light rain fell gently from the sky; black clouds obscured the blue sky and sunshine. The trees were turning a vivid green now – Kyouya glanced at them from the windows all day – but his world couldn't have been grayer.

He couldn't get his father off his mind. He couldn't understand why… Why his father would _play _with Haruhi like this. It was his position to be the chess piece – at least, until he succeeded his father as the chess player – but it was not Haruhi's.

She looked at him inquiringly throughout the day, wondering when he would deliver the dreaded news, but he only acted like he didn't see her.

He didn't want her to know what a bastard his father was.

* * *

When he got home, only the clouds and the puddles in the street remained from the rain. 

He took his shoes off slowly. The house felt silent, dead.

"_Hello?"_ he shouted. His voice echoed in the grand entrance hall. No one answered.

Fuyumi was gone.

* * *

Kyouya gave a nasty look to the man who'd just nudged into him, but the man didn't even notice. Stupid commoner, probably didn't know who he was… 

He realized it had been a bad idea to take the train. He'd never rode it before in his entire life (having relied on his chauffeur) but had always heard how crowded and common it was. The rumors were true.

Kyouya gripped his ring tighter. _You don't know what you've got until it's gone, _he noted blandly to himself.

His father knew what his chauffeurs knew. If he was driven to Fuyumi's house, his father would know. And needless to say, his father did not approve of his grown daughter interacting with her her brothers, father, or mother on occasions other than New Years and the like.

From the subway station, he took a short, unpleasant walk through the damp streets. His thoughts strayed, and he nearly bumped into a woman and her child in the street.

Finally, just as the rain started up again, he reached her home. He raced up the drive, avoiding the bleak rain that was beginning to fall, and was admitted in.

He wandered about for a time, not letting his presence be known. As he walked through the main entrance, he noticed the sounds of a grandfather clock. It seemed to be much louder than it should've.

_Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic. Tic... Tic..._

He noticed, right away, how the atmosphere mirrored his own home's. Cold. Quiet. But there was something more. A kind of hollowness that even the Ootori house didn't have... the feeling of something having been gutted.

It made sense, then, what he saw next.

It made sense that it nearly broke his heart.

At first he didn't even realize she was in the room. It was dark outside, but she used no light – relied only on the weak, gray-filtered sunshine. There was the rain, which all but drowned out the slight creak of her rocking chair.

Her eyes were on a book, though she didn't turn the page – didn't read the words. She just sat looking blankly at the same page. _Nine Months – How to Take Care of Yourself and Your Child. _

A tear fell and marred the paper.

She looked up, finally noticing his entrance. Something lit in her dull eyes. "Kyouya! I'm sorry I-"

Before she could even finish, he put his arms around her and held tight.

* * *

She set the warm tea out before him. She was practically beaming now, and he could tell how much his visit pleased her. He felt strangely uncomfortable, knowing how unhappy she was. _Why…?_

She sat down on the other side of him and stirred her tea idly. "I'm so glad you came to visit. It really does get boring here, with no one around."

He sipped his tea. "Is your husband coming back today?"

She tried to stay bright. "Yes, he is. Are you sure you don't want any sugar or anything?"

"Don't try to change the subject."

She fell silent. He softened his tone for her benefit.

"You never said anything to indicate you were..."

He never was a sensitive person. He couldn't bring himself to complete the statement...

_Lonely._

"It's not so bad when Osamu is here."

He wondered how that man could be any company, but he realized that even Osamu was better than the tick of the grandfather clock, or the drum of the rain.

"Let's play a game, Fuyumi."

She turned up to look at him, without a hint of the smile she normally wore. She just looked tired. And older.

"What kind of game?"

"Truth."

"No dare?"

"I don't know why I'd want something that foolish. The truth is much more precious."

"I thought you were always more of a chess player," she commented with an unusually wry smile.

He didn't acknowledge her statement, instead diving right into his new game. "Are you happy?"

She looked him in the eye and answered easily, simply. "No."

He looked at her for a moment more – he didn't expect to get an answer so soon. She looked into her cup.

"Now," she said softly, smiling once again, "I have a question for you, Kyouya. Do you love Fujioka Haruhi?"

He hesitated for only a moment, only a moment, but decides that an honest answer deserved an honest answer. "Yes."

She smiled wider, a look of relief flooding her face.

The realization dawned on him slowly, nothing like a similar one on Saturday night. This one is more a heartache than a fury.

She was just trying to help.

But it'd gone terribly wrong.

"Fuyumi, it doesn't work like that."

He took a deep breath. His sister, he realized, was fragile. So fragile.

"You can't just have me married because I – I love her. She doesn't love me. She won't be happy."

They're quiet for a while more. He can't see her eyes - so like his, but so different in how easily they betray. They're lowered. But soon enough, a single tear slides down her cheek.

"Kyouya." She covered her face. Her voice was muffled. "I just wanted to see someone happy."

"Haruhi would be unhappy. Very much so." His voice was a whisper, and neither looked at the other anymore.

"You care about her. How can you not-"

There was the faintest sound of a door shutting. Fuyumi's words abruptly halted, and she stood, regaining her poise considerably. But Kyouya noticed the way she supported herself on the table as she rose.

Kyouya rose as well. "Take care of yourself," he reminded her, "and the little one."

She smiled a bit more warmly, more like the Fuyumi he knew. The Fuyumi who rooted through his clothing drawers and spoke of romance and friendship with an awed tone; Fuyumi the girl instead of Fuyumi the wife and mother-to-be.

"Fuyumi?" It was Osamu. His eyes flecked to Kyouya, and he gave a slight bow. "Good afternoon. You were visiting with your sister?"

"I was just leaving," Kyouya said with a (fake) smile. He nodded at Fuyumi and left her little dining room, but waited outside, near the doorway.

He had to know how Osamu would take this. Or if Fuyumi would even tell him.

He had to.

The couple didn't speak for a while. Then:

"You seem nervous. What's wrong?"

His tone was more slight curiosity than care.

Fuyumi didn't respond.

"Did you just hear me?"

She still didn't respond.

"Fine, then. Did you make this tea yourself?"

"Yes, I did."

"No wonder it's so bitter. You should tell the cook to do it – it's what she's paid for."

Kyouya couldn't see the scene, but he could imagine: Osamu, boredly flipping through a stack of papers. Fuyumi scurrying about, putting a cup of tea before him, averting his eyes. Doing anything not to tell him the truth.

The most precious thing: Truth. And trust. Were these the reasons Haruhi was so important to him?

"Osamu... I-I have something to tell you."

He heard the light scratch of a chair being pulled back as Fuyumi joined her husband at the table.

"What is it?"

"I'm pregnant."

The shuffling of the papers stopped. Now Kyouya knew she had his full attention.

"You're sure?"

"Very."

Osamu immersed himself in thought. Kyouya sensed that Fuyumi was holding her breath.

"This _child_ has bad timing. I won't be home much for the next nine months to make sure you're taken care of."

Fuyumi just sat. Probably twiddling her thumbs – the thing that Ootoris never did, but did anyway.

"You're going to take responsibility, aren't you? This is the future heir of the Hamata Corporation; he... or she, I suppose, needs to be kept in good health."

_She knows him all too well._

"Fuyumi, _are you listening to me?"_

Her voice is small. "Yes."

"I'll have a new diet planned out for you. And I'll have an appointment scheduled tomorrow for a very accomplished doctor."

"Okay."

"I'll be gone again by then. I trust you to make good decisions for the child while I'm not present. In fact, I'll have a nurse installed in the house to help you."

Kyouya knew well what she was feeling. Complete numbness.

She wasn't angry, but he was angry on her behalf. She was _pregnant, _and there wasn't a single "congratulations". And a _nurse? _It was almost as if Fuyumi was a child, and not the mother. He was cold, and it was all business.

Kyouya knew this type of man well. He was the same as Kyouya's father.

And he was a lot like Kyouya.

Fuyumi just sat. Kyouya heard a restrained sob.

Because after so long, being numb starts to hurt.

"Are you crying? I know that pregnant women are supposedly very hormonal, but-"

The choking sound grew louder.

"Fuyumi?" He was restraining his impatience, but his voice grew the tiniest bit louder. "What is it?"

Her answer came in the form of sobbing. They were not pretty; they were not elegant. They were like gasps of air, and if one was immune to the sheer sadness behind them one would think they were laughter.

Kyouya bit his lip hard, slipped away. He couldn't handle it anymore.

He didn't like seeing his sister crying like that.

And he never wanted to see Haruhi broken down to what Fuyumi was.


	8. It's Out

a/n: I just realized that, according to FRoP, Fuyumi married into the Shido family. (bangs head into keyboard). Sorry I didn't do my research there. I made up my own family name for her (Hamata), because I never remembered anyone mentioning her husband by name. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me whether I should change that or keep it the way it is. For now, I'll stick with what I've already established.

I am so, so grateful for all the reviews I got last chapter. I love to hear what you think –no matter whether you thought it was OOC or good. But most of the reviews said it was the latter, which absolutely made my day. :3

I'm not sure I handled parts of this chapter well, but I tried my best. This was originally going to be the last chapter, but you know what I realized? There was not nearly enough Kyouya and Haruhi development. So you can expect another, perhaps, three chapters. Which will hopefully be added every week. It took me a while to get this one finished, but it hasn't been too long. :)

Again, I'm worrying about Renge and whether or not I'm giving her too much depth, but you know what? Otakus are people too. xD

Woah. Long author's note. On with the story!

* * *

_Poke. _

_Poke. _

_Poke. _

"_Stop it," _Kyouya spat at the notorious poker. Tamaki.

"Kyouya! You need to wake up!"

"I haven't gotten more than two hours of sleep for the past _week. _Let me be."

Monday had rolled around again. Kyouya had been dodging calls and glances from Haruhi all week, worrying about various other things, and checking in with Fuyumi daily.

He closed his eyes again, and seconds later, when he thought he might be falling back asleep, he felt Tamaki's eyes on him from very close.

He opened his. "_Tamaki." _

Tamaki was examining him, only inches from his face, too closely for comfort..

"What's wrong? You look really tired. Are you sick, maybe?" He stood up, gave Kyouya a little room to breathe. "It wouldn't do for Mommy to be sick."

Kyouya looked away. "I'm not sick," he mumbled.

_But that's only half true._

_

* * *

_

"Tamaki?"

Kyouya tossed his friends name at him, only to be met by a dead gaze. Kyouya looked at him oddly before flipping out his notebook. He stared at his scribbled observations for a time. The words, like the thoughts that accompanied them, floated aimlessly through his mind…

_I can't think while I'm like this _

"Kyouya," Tamaki, finally spoke, his voice unusually suppressed. "I thought we were friends."

Kyouya looked up.

"I thought friends told each other things."

His stomach sank.

He knew what was happening.

He knew it was not good.

He wanted, more than anything to apologize.

But Ootoris didn't apologize.

So, by instinct, his voice came out rough and dry – like sand. "And what haven't I been telling you?"

_How does he…? _

Tamaki's voice crackled. "And Haruhi? How does she feel, being married against her will?"

He looked down at his shoes, bit his lip, and walked away.

* * *

Kyouya was in a vicious mood the rest of the day. No one dared to so much as glance at him.

Except Haruhi.

She only spotted him for only a moment in the morning but the way his face was etched with anger warned her to stay away.

"What's wrong with Kyouya-senpai?"

The twins looked at each other, then at their favorite plaything. No, their favorite person.

"Nothing," they answered in unison.

* * *

This was the iciest the host club had ever been. Kyouya stood in the corner, now enervated if not still glowering. He was too tired, too weak, to do anything but mark down numbers in his notebook.

Haruhi tried her best to entertain her customers, but she continued to steal glances at the host in the corner. Some girls took this a sign of their love affair, some girls took this as a sign of Haruhi's wonderful kindness. Renge, on the other hand, took it as a sign that things weren't working quite as well as she'd hoped, and she felt a little ache in her heart on her unofficial ex-fiancé's behalf.

Tamaki's hosting technique was dramatically changed. Instead of his usual smooth, romantic words he just sat on a couch. His face had fallen like looking like a sad puppy's. Thankfully, his customers ate it up, comforting him and petting him.

The twins tried to retain their usual behavior, but they didn't have their usual spark. Something was off. Mori and Hunny were the only ones who remained unaffected, but that was only because no one noticed the way Hunny would suddenly look off into space and frown wistfully, or how Mori kept his eyes down.

So, to the customers it was a normal day, but to the hosts, it was the anxious calm before a storm.

* * *

Kyouya exited the host club, turning the key in the lock. He felt as if he was going to drop dead from exhaustion. He was only human, and he could only take so much sleep deprivation. In fact, the only reason he'd been able to stay standing all day was due to a miraculous little elixir named coffee.

"I was wondering when you'd finish up in there."

Kyouya's eyes, glazed over with something indescribable, flecked over the girl before him.

"Hello, Haruhi."

"I was waiting for you," she told him evenly. His movements were languid, dejected. Defeated.

_So this was what he was hiding with his anger this morning. _

She wanted to reach out and take his hand, do something to comfort him. But she had no idea whether her comfort would be welcome or not. Kyouya was not the sort of person who wanted any kind of pity.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, somewhat bitterly. "About our secret being out?"

Her eyes widened larger than he'd ever seen. "_What?" _

"It's only leaked into the host club, as far as I know." His brow furrowed. "I have no idea how."

"How do _you_ know?" she asked tentatively.

"Tamaki."

"He… told you?"  
"He's upset."

She fell silent.

"You're sorry that he found out?"

She didn't reply. He waited for one.

"No. He shouldn't be. It's not your fault." She picked her eyes up of the floor to stare into his. "I think he's childish to act to stubbornly."

His heart beat faster, though he did his best to conceal it. So she was on _his _side. That's the way he should've expected Haruhi to act – she had the sense to see things objectively – but it still made him feel better about things.

"So you noticed the atmosphere in club today, too."

"Only fangirls could be so blind."

"So very true."

"Tamaki wouldn't have discovered this on his own," Haruhi pointed out.

"Which leaves Mori, Hunny…"  
"And the twins," she concluded.

Quiet.

"The _twins_," Kyouya repeated.

Haruhi worriedly tapped her lips. "You really think they'd do something like that? And how would they have found out?"

Kyouya thought. Traces. What could have led the twins to their conclusion? Pure suspicion? But they'd need more than that to figure out the arranged marriage, unless… No, it would have been _too _coincidentia for them to just guess. And besides – the twins didn't normally go so far with their pranks. They had to know what was going on, and there was no doubt they were upset.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

"Haruhi, I think we can agree we've been very careful about this. You haven't said anything to anyone who didn't already know, did you?"

She shook her head.

"I thought not. That leaves my family, your father, and Renge. I doubt any of them would have revealed our situation to anyone. So that leaves other forms of evidence – anything you can think of?"

Her words came slowly. "You… gave me a note."  
His posture became rigid. "What did you do with it?"

"I think that I put it in my pocket."

"This was during host club, wasn't it?"

"Yes."  
"Were you wearing a costume?"

"Yes."

"The twins manage our costumes."

"Yes."

"_That's _how."

"It didn't say anything, did it? It just said that I needed to meet you. No names or specifics."

"But it was suspicious enough. They probably recognized the handwriting and, finding it in your pocket, put two in two together. _Something _was going on."

"But how would they have gotten from a 'meet me near the tree' to 'arranged marriage'?"

"We don't know."

Haruhi's eyes clouded over with an uncharacteristic anger – and some sort of sadness. "Why does everyone have to be so childish? To their friends?"

"I think they're angry." He decided not to finish his statement, but the words wormed out anyway. "And jealous."

She looked up him quizzically, not understanding.

He did not explain.

"For now, Haruhi, I think it's best if we both go home and rest. I'll see you at school tomorrow, and we can only hope that no one has spread this bit of news any further."

"Kyouya-senpai, what-"

"Haruhi-chan? Kyouya-kun?" It was Renge, who looked pleasantly surprised to have come across them in the hallway.

"Ah, Renge-chan, is there anything you need?" Kyouya asked, a sharp subtext to his voice. Translation: _What do you want? _

"Actually, yes, I'd like to talk to you, Kyouya-kun." She gave a little smile. "I'm still club manageress."

Haruhi nodded goodbye, but before she left eyed Kyouya curiously.

"Kyouya-senpai, you're still not sleeping, are you? Please, get some sleep."  
He looked over at her, blinked. Renge waited with bated breath.

"I suppose I'll try." Haruhi smiled approvingly and left. As soon as she was out of earshot, Renge almost exploded with enthusiasm.

"_Ho ho ho!" _she squeaked, squirming excitedly.

"What is it?"

"You two are in love!"

"No we're not."

"Yes you are!"

"You're delusional."  
"Am not!"

Kyouya's eyes steeled. It was time that Renge learned her fantasies weren't reality.

"We. Are. Not. In. Love." He said, making his voice as hard as it could be. Renge finally stopped her fidgeting and looked at him curiously.

"But you two make such a cute couple. The cold megane, softened by the charming-"

"Renge," he continued, his voice taking on a biting tone, "What exactly is love to you? Is it some scene from a shoujo? A fairytale? Because you couldn't be further from the truth."

Renge froze, looking almost dumbfounded by his sudden severity.

"So, you do love her," she whispered, "But she doesn't love-"

"I never said any such thing. You're a fool."  
Renge thought carefully, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair through her finger. "I'll answer your question, Kyouya-kun. Love is -" she cut herself off, then began again. "I'll start from the beginning. Love _was _Miyabi."  
Kyouya squinted at her, though he could see her perfectly fine through his lenses. "That… _character _that you though I resembled?"  
"Yes, that's true. But that was just me, being silly. Silly and naïve."

"What else is new?"

"A lot, Kyouya-kun," she said, her voice unusually forceful, "because even though you were obviously _nothing _like Miyabi, I managed to figure out what love really was."

She took a breath. "And, no, it's not Haruhi."

Kyouya smirked, although his eyes were still burning holes through Renge's skull.

"Love is wanting this best for someone. Love is wanting them to be… to be free."

Kyouya was shocked into silence.

"I haven't found my special someone yet," she continued, "but I know what love is. _That _is my definition of love. It's what my father always says."

_Her father? _

"He always says how much he wanted me to live a carefree, happy life," she said matter-of-factly. "He moved Mother and me to France when I was little, just before I would've started attending balls. Before I would've become a real part of society. He and Mother never wished that kind of pressure on me, even though it looked very bad for them to move. Father still works here in Japan, and he rarely had to opportunity to come home and visit us."

Renge paused, giving Kyouya a window to respond. He didn't. He was still processing how this girl – this insane daydreamer of a girl – could have so much love for her father. It was similar to the feeling he got when he recognized the bond Haruhi and Ranka shared – a hollowness.

"He let me take the jet to Japan, to my new fiancé who I'd never met before. When I called him, he said it was fine for me to go to Ouran, if that's what made me happy."

"That's why you don't know how to behave properly at social functions," was all that Kyouya could manage, remembering her artless, candid behavior at the charity ball.

His sarcastic words didn't fool her. She just shrugged.

"Love is standing by someone, and it's discovering who they _are. _It's _loving_ them for who they are." She smiled. "That definition is from Haruhi. You, Kyouya-kun, are going to have some problems finding someone who will love you."

She skipped off, and Kyouya reflected sadly on how right, for once, Renge was.

* * *

"How did you do at school today?"

Kyouya looked up from his plate, not bothering to hide his momentary surprise at the sound of his mother's voice.

"Good."

Silence took over again.

"Kyouya," his father spoke up, "Fuyumi called me today."

Kyouya twitched. He hoped his father didn't notice. "What did she have to say?"

"She said she was pregnant. But I'm assuming you already knew that."

"It's as much a surprise to me as it is to you."

"You've been calling her for the last week, consistently. You must have been concerned for her health – there's no other excuse for your behavior."

Silence.

"Are _you _concerned for her health?"

Kyouya's voice grated at the silence. His mother gave him a stupified look, and his father looked up at his son slowly.

"She'll be fine. Any chance for risk is low."

"But the risks are still there," Kyouya continued, in a voice his parents have never heard before. It was _fiery. _"They exist. Shouldn't we keep in touch with her while she's having this child?"

No one spoke, but there was a shock in the air. Not so much at his words, but as his tone.

"You know what? Even if she's not pregnant, or if it's not New Years, we should talk to her. Do you know how _unhappy _she is?" His voice rose, and his chair scuffled against the tile as he stood.

The look on his face is almost feral, and his eyes are narrowed threateningly.

Yoshio, in contrast, looked as calm as he could be. Too calm. His eyes are glazed with ice, and his reply is coated in it.

"You know nothing."

"I know more than you think I do."

"You shouldn't interfere, then. Leave this to adults, to your father and your _older brothers_."

"_Please._"

Yoshio's eyes swept over Kyouya, but even their frigidness couldn't extinguish the look in his son's eyes.

"I overlooked your actions at the charity ball-" his voice is dangerously cold – "but this is inexcusable. Think over the way you've been acting." His father's footsteps fade away, echoing slightly in the ever-silent dining room.

"You know he loves you_." _

It's his mother's voice, a whisper.

"I don't believe that."

He strides, with every ounce of his dignity, to his room.

And there, he very nearly cries.

But not quite. Because Kyouya doesn't cry.

Or, at least, doesn't admit to it.


	9. Different

a/n: I'm very dissatisfied with this chapter, but I don't know what to do about it. Think of this chapter as a sort of transition. It's not as good as some have been, and maybe a little confusing, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. :)

I'm so sorry for my inconsistent updating habits! I've been working (albeit very slowly) on this chapter all week. I've been unbelievably busy lately (summer will be such, such sweet release). :3

I want to answer Kuro's review here, because there were a bunch of points that really do need addressing. I don't want to confuse anyone _too _much. ;D

--- The Tamaki scene at the beginning wasn't exactly connected to the rest of the chapters. It's just there to show what's been going on with Kyouya, since, you might've noticed, there's a gap of a week (in Ouran time) between chapter seven and chapter eight. Also, it shows that Tamaki _does _notice that _something's _up. He doesn't know what, but he knows that something is plaguing Kyouya.

--- Yes, Kyouya's dad is a big mean jerk. It's not that Fuyumi's done anything wrong – Yoshio just finds it inappropriate that Kyouya should be calling her _so_ much. (Remember, this is the guy who thought that his daughter shouldn't pop in and visit.)

--- When Kyouya told Haruhi about the situation, she was a little bit upset – but she rationalized that Kyouya had done nothing wrong. Now, I'm not saying Haruhi's dishonest (she's the most honest character I've come across), but I _am_ saying that not everything a character says is the truth. People feel things but don't verbalize them. She was feeling something _she_ didn't want to verbalize, because she thinks it's silly to feel that way. And she _was _on Kyouya's side. For the record, don't be completely sure of how strong Haruhi's feelings for Tamaki are. I think that Tamaki's feelings for her are a lot stronger than hers for Tamaki.

Lastly, I really appreciate every single review. xD The long ones are the absolute best, but they make my day. And knowing that so many people are waiting for an update really drives me to write.

* * *

"I don't think I can handle this anymore, to be honest." 

_It's funny_, _the way that this situation has played out. _The thought flitted through his mind as Haruhi turned, surprised that he'd showed a sign of weakness.

But he didn't bat an eyelash, so she turned back to what she'd been looking at before.

Tamaki was standing by the school entrance. He shot her a hopeful glance that was meant to be subtle, but came out glaringly conspicuous. Haruhi felt a little sorry for him – he obviously wanted to talk to her, but he wouldn't approach her. And she assumed he wanted to speak to Kyouya, as well, but wouldn't break his childish protest of silence. It reminded her of the time when he'd told her he wouldn't speak until she apologized for being to brash…. _Apologize… _her brow furrowed.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

He finally looked up from the ground into his face. She felt relief wash over when she realized that the black shadows under his eyes she'd become accustomed to were absent.

She motioned in Tamaki's direction and smiled. "This situation is wearing on all of us. Why don't you go over and apologize? Just explain that there's absolutely nothing between us, and he'll be fine."

Kyouya looked at her a moment more, as if pleading with her. But then he turned back to his shoelaces. "I-" he shook his head and turned back to his shoelaces, stone faced. "I won't apologize. I've done nothing wrong."

Haruhi bit her lip and tried to rein in her temper. "Don't tell me that you're going to go along with all of this immaturity?"

Kyouya's eyes sparked up, like a match being placed amidst wood. "They started it."

Haruhi fidgeted, not wanting to kindle the wicked temper she knew he possessed. But that had never stopped her before. "Listen to yourself," she muttered. Kyouya didn't seem to hear. Or else he ignored her. It was probably for the best.

She lifted her head to look again at Tamaki. The way his head was pulled down, the way his eyes were unusually empty, filled her with pity. _Why doesn't he just come over and talk to us? _

Students walked by, chattering obliviously. Some girls cast a puzzled glance their way – even fangirls had, in the past couple of days, noticed that something was going on.

After all, it seemed that everyone's favorite natural tried to avoid the club's vice-president as much as he could, outside of the club. And Tamaki and Kyouya were well-known to be friends. Why the sudden separation?

They stood for a moment more. Haruhi was not used to this beaten silence coming from Kyouya, and so she spoke. She spoke her mind, as she usually did.

"You know," she said suddenly, "It's odd.. I would never expect you to act this way. It's… you're different."

He looked up quickly. She had no idea why, but he was interested in what she was saying.

"Different?"

"From the others. And different from what I… used to think you were."

He stared at her.

"How?"

"Well, I was thinking about your behavior right now," she began, a bit of a scolding in her voice, "and how the Kyouya-senpai everyone knew wouldn't act that way. They think you're cold, and… not really human." She paused. "It's easy to think that way. But you're… very human. Not like that at all." She paused again, as if wondering which words she needed to choose to express herself. She gazed off into the sky with a contemplative look in her brown eyes.

Kyouya's eyes widened, but his head dipped back down. Haruhi frowned.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, so Haruhi let him be, feeling just the most abnormal sort of beat in her heart. What was wrong with her?

"Thank you."

She blinked. "N-no problem."

Ugh, would her heartbeat _quit doing that?

* * *

_

"Ne! Kyou-chan! Kyou-chan!"

Kyouya snapped out of his daze and looked down at the small, blonde boy tugging on his hand.

"Hunny-senpai?"

"Have some cake with me and Takashi!" Hunny threw his fellow host a dazzlingly adorable smile, and dragged him over to a table in the corner, where Mori sat quietly.

Kyouya wondered what was going on. He didn't associate very much with Hunny-senpai, and of all the hosts Kyouya found him the greatest enigma.

Hunny plopped down and automatically shoveled a piece of cake – no, make that two – into his mouth. He squealed contently as Kyouya looked on in horror. Hunny grinned.

"No costumers for a few more minutes," Hunny told Kyouya cheerfully. Kyouya nodded his agreement.

"So we need to talk," Hunny continued. Kyouya adjusted his glasses and crossed his legs.

"About what?"

"_You know._"

"I don't want to talk about it. It has nothing to with my own actions," Kyouya told him curtly, before standing. But Mori motioned with his head for Kyouya to sit back down. Hunny waved his fork, a piece of cake on the tip, and shook his head somewhat condescendingly.

"I don't want to talk about that. You and Haru-chan. I think you'll try and do what you think is best about that. I want to talk about you and Tama-chan."

Kyouya looked over to the couch. Tamaki, noticing the eyes on him, tried very hard not to turn around.

"Losing a friend…" Hunny looked sadly down at his plate. The piece of cake fell off, and Hunny brightened a bit as he picked it up with two fingers and placed it in his mouth.

"It's awful," he said, swallowing the cake.

Kyouya reflected on that a bit. A friend? He'd thought about Tamaki as many things – a fool, a classmate… and a friend. Hunny was right. Kyouya realized why this had been wearing on him.

He was losing his only real friend.

"I think you should go apologize to Tama-chan," he said softly.

"Ah."

"But what do I say?" his voice came out twisted, frustrated.

"Sorry," Mori spoke up.

"Sorry," Hunny echoed in his high-pitched voice.

Kyouya remembered her words: _Apologize. _

The day ended. Kyouya took his limousine home as usual, but about halfway through his drive home a somewhat unusual idea came to him.

After a moment of hesitancy, he issued the order to his chauffeur. "Take my to the Hamata residence."

The driver looked tentatively back. "Are you-?"

"Don't question me." Kyouya locked his gaze on the driver, who soon snapped his own back on the road. _Tell my father whatever you'd like,_ Kyouya thought, _I don't care. _

He thought he didn't, anyway.

In minutes, they were at his sister's house. He marched right up the drive and welcomed himself in.

"Fuyumi?"

She popped up from behind the doorway, almost glowing. "Kyouya!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the living room.

"What's going-?"

"Sit!"

"Fuyumi," he told her surveying the room, "it's a mess in here! What have…?" He noticed what was sprawled all over the room.

"Baby clothes?" His voice was softer.

"Yes!" Her excitement got the better of her, and she nearly did a little dance. "I don't know whether it'll be a boy or a girl yet, but I want to be prepared for either."

A slow smile crept onto his face, just as an old, strict-looking woman walked in. Ever strand of her grey hair was in place, and she wore an immaculately clean apron.

"Hamata-sama, there's a new delivery."

Fuyumi clasped her hands together. "Good, good, will you please bring it in? And, Makoto-san, use my first name! It feels a little weird to be called 'sama'… I'm not used to it anymore."

Makoto grinned a bit, bowed slightly, and left the room.

"The new nurse you mentioned?"

"Yes, she's actually nice," Fuyumi said cheerfully as she surveyed a tiny, pink dress. "We've become friends. She mothers me quite a bit."

"She doesn't seem very nice."

"Oh, but-"

Makoto returned, carrying a huge cardboard box, so large that Kyouya doubted it was clothing. "Here it is Ha- Fuyumi-san." Fuyumi squealed in excitement and tried to lift the box into the room. It wouldn't budge.

"Oh dear. This must be the crib I ordered…"

She cleared her throat and motioned to Kyouya. "I'll wait and get one of the men servants to do it. In the meantime, may I introduce my baby brother – Kyouya!" Kyouya nodded, feeling entirely out of water being introduced to a servant. Makoto's eyes became almost hawkish.

"Good to meet you, Ootori-sama," she said, bowing low. She gave him a quick nod of approval.

"She _is_ a bit stern," Fuyumi conceded in a whisper, having come back to his side.

Kyouya absently looked around the room. "I wanted to ask your advice about something." Fuyumi lit up as though she'd won a jackpot.

"You're asking… for advice!" she affirmed, plopping down on the couch. "Advice! You never ask for advice! I have to pry things out of you!"

Kyouya motioned for the nurse to leave, and she reluctantly did so.

"Tamaki's angry," Kyouya told her simply. Fuyumi smile disappeared and was replaced with a pensive half-frown.

"Oh, no."

"Yes."

"Why? I didn't think he'd be so upset about the marriage."

"Fuyumi, you knew him," Kyouya realized, recalling his sister's friendship with Tamaki, "You're the one who was so enthusiastic about this marriage, but you had to have known how he felt about her." He stopped, then continued in a near-whisper. "And you know he's my… friend."

Fuyumi's fingers nervously found their way to the end table next to her, and she began to tap it in worry. "Oh, dear. I really didn't think…" She looked up almost pleadingly. "Kyouya, I'm sorry. It was from Tamaki-kun that I heard about Haruhi –he spoke so highly of her. And the look in his eyes when he talked about her... I thought – I_ knew_ that he loved her. But, from the things he told me – he surely didn't see it, you probably didn't, but I did. Kyouya, sometimes I think I know you better than you do. You loved her. So when you came home looking so – excuse my word choice, but looking so _lovesick –_" Kyouya winced "- I knew it could only be one girl. Fujioka Haruhi. Not that I hadn't had a good idea of it before then." Her fingers drummed audibly in the quiet.

"So," Kyouya affirmed, trying to keep his temper subdued, "you're saying that even though you knew my _best friend_ was in _love _with her, you supported this marriage completely?"

"Because I thought that Tamaki-kun wasn't the kind of man to be angry about that. Tamaki-kun cares for you as much as you care for him, Kyouya. He isn't the type to be jealous, as far as I knew. No matter how much he loves Haruhi, I thought he'd still want you to have a chance with her."

"It's more than that," Kyouya replied sourly, "fixing Haruhi in a position that is not favorable to her probably hurtful to his inner-gentleman. And an arranged marriage? Fuyumi, that's not a _chance. _That's a condemnation."

Fuyumi pondered, and she didn't need words to express how sorry she was. "She could've said no." Kyouya snorted. It surprised him how little she knew about some things. "But – it has to be more than that…" her words came to a halt. "Kyouya, did you not _tell _him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Haruhi and I never intended to be married in the first place. It was supposed to a secret."

The drumming of Fuyumi's fingers came to a halt.

"I never planned on marrying her. You know how I feel about the matter."

Fuyumi nodded wearily. "I understand. But still. From the start..?"

She gave him a window to respond, but he didn't. She began to twirl a piece of her hair, slowly at first, around her index finger.

"That's why you didn't bring her to the charity ball. I always wondered what your reasoning was. And… as if I could forget… a couple of weeks ago…" she trailed off, not able to say more.

They would never forget that day. But they weren't sure they wanted to.

"Then, you understand why I didn't want to tell him."

"I still think you should've. Tamaki-kun would have understood."

He would have smiled, to reassure her, but he was in no mood for pretending. He stood to leave. "I'd better be on my way."

"Kyouya?"

He reached out for the doorknob, but turned at her voice.

"You should remember that it wasn't me who arranged this… I didn't quite mean for…" she trailed off again and shrugged weakly.

But Kyouya remembered quite well whose fault this was. His father's.

"Take care," he told her. His voice came out unexpectedly tired. _And I thought I was sleeping regularly again…_

"Bye bye! Love you!"

Kyouya nodded, but was caught off guard. It wasn't normal to hear such words, even from Fuyumi.

_Love you, too.

* * *

_

His eyes had pasted themselves lifelessly to the alarm clock. The ugly, red numbers shone back at him – 1:30.

Why did this happen to him?

Things had been so normal before his father announced this engagement. He had enjoyed watching the antics of the other hosts as they tried to win Haruhi. But now, it was he who was behaving foolishly. More than foolishly – stupidly. Fuyumi was right, he should've told Tamaki.

But Kyouya realized that he wouldn't have been able to do so if he'd wanted to. Tamaki didn't deserve to be hurt, but that's what he was right now. If only their secret never had stayed a secret.

He turned onto his back. Secrets weren't any good. Kyouya told himself he should've known better.

And he couldn't forget Haruhi. Was it really right to bring her into this? Was it fair to _her_? Of course not. He had to make things right. For Haruhi, _at least. _And for Tamaki.

He was able to sleep a little after making that decision. He had decided. And now, Kyouya would act.

Someone deserved to be happy.

* * *

a/n: Again, I'm sorry for any errors or other evidence of my hurry to get this chapter out. :) I promise I'll try my best to get the next chapter out at a better pace! 


	10. Mon Vrai Ami, Mon Faux Mari

a/n: Well, hello again, everyone. (smiles shakily) I, um, am sorry about not updating for a very long time? And, um, can you put your pitchforks away now? Hehehehe… (shaky laughter)

All joking aside, I really am sorry. You know how things are – even _after_ summer came around, I was still busy. -- And it seemed as though my muse had left me, for I've been on a drabble/oneshot spree (which is what I _always _do when I'm uninspired with my multi-chappied fics). Thankfully, after watching some amvs and reading some more fanfiction, I regained my inner KyouxHaru fangirl. :3 (I was listening to a few songs from KyouxHaru amvs I've seen while writing this. It was actually very helpful.).

I initially was planning to do something (mostly) entirely different with this chapter, but it turned out the way it is now and I'm actually very glad. :) I think the way I intentionally mapped it out, it would've been too boring and too transitional, like the last chapter. I'm sorry if it feels a little disjointed from the rest of the chapters, though... It seems as though it doesn't fit or something, but it's probably just me being overly-critical. xI

Lastly, a note to the readers: _mamagoto _means something like 'family pretend-game'. Eclair used it in the anime, and (slight spoiler, here) Kaoru used it in one of the latest manga chapters. And excuse my French if it happens to be in any way incorrect in the chapter title. ;) I did check.

I'm content. C: Hopefully you all will be too (and that contentedness will be enough for you to forgive me…?)

Enjoy! xD Reviews, as always, are treasured. No kidding.

* * *

It was not a bright or cheerful morning. 

It was not a bright or cheerful morning, and neither was Kyouya's mood. Despite the fact that he had woken up at the first ring of his first alarm clock – quite the feat – not a single bit of the hired help glimpsed anything but a sort of shadowed emptiness in his eyes.

Kyouya didn't feel as bad as he might have looked to them. He had his morning coffee (his father was not present, but Kyouya didn't let this hold his attention) then stepped outside and slid into his waiting limousine.

He forced the corners of his mouth up into a tight smile. Things would be right after today, or so he could hope. All he ha-

"Kyouya-senpai?" He started at the familiar voice and turned his head. "_Haruhi?_"

She acted as though there was nothing strange about her presence her in his limousine. Usually he picked her up. Furthermore, it was like she'd materialized from nowhere. _I have every right to be startled, _he reasoned, _What is… __**why**__ is she here?_

"I'm sorry - I called your chauffer to come and pick me up early," she apologized quickly, "I just thought you might want to talk. And I wanted to be here right away, so we could accomplish that."

"You waited? For how long?"

She shrugged. "It's really not a big deal. You do wake up late, though."

"I don't walk to school. I'm not used to an early wakeup. I don't think I would be able to maintain one."

She let out a 'pfft', the beginning of a laugh. Instead of feeling puzzled to why she was laughing, he felt pleased.

He reached into his pocket and deftly pulled out his cell phone. He pressed the 'off'' button.

"What exactly was so urgent?" His words might have indicated impatience or even sarcasm, but his tone said that he was ready to listen.

He felt the car slide into motion.

"Kyouya, you – I mean, Kyouya-senpai, you-"

"You called me Kyouya."

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"You can do so, if you'd want."

There was only the smooth sound of the car gliding along the road. She bit her lower lip and looked uncertainly at him.

"Kyouya-senpai-"

(Apparently, she had not wanted to)

"-It's you and Tamaki-senpai-"

(While the word 'Tamaki' had unconsciously slipped into her speech as of late)

"-And what's going on at school."

_(This is not the time for petty, disgusting jealousies, _he told himself angrily. Haruhi, of course, had a point.)

"It's getting more than just annoying. It's painful just to _be _in the third music room these days. And you," she added, appealing to his business sense, "must have noticed a drop in the profits. Even the guests are feeling the chill, and staying away. This is dragging out far too long and it's not helping any of us. If you don't apologize to Tamaki-senpai yourself, then I will apologize for you."

She frowned, and her mouth puckered in irritation. Her lids draped down over her eyes. Were those the beginnings of tears? No, Kyouya was only seeing things. Probably.

"If no one apologizes, then, maybe, we won't have a host club anymore."

She was right. She was completely right.

"No need, Haruhi. I was planning to do so today." It was the truth. He cast a glance her way and smirked. "And there's also no need for you to look so surprised."

A relieved, fluid smile flowed onto her face.

"Thank God. I hated this."

He found himself smiling, too, although only moments ago the idea of confronting his best friend – admitting his wrongs – had filled him with a sense of squirming dread. A sort of dread he could not remember feeling before.

He looked pensively out the window. "I still find myself wondering what exactly is going on within the twins' minds. How they couldn't see what a mess this has become, greatly in thanks to them."

Haruhi was silent.

He looked over at her. "What is it?"

She looked down at her hands, clasped neatly in her lap. Kyouya, like most anyone else, knew that most people, including Haruhi, didn't clasp their hands if they weren't feeling some level of discomfort.

"Did one of them talk to you?"

"Kaoru."

"What did Kaoru say?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Did he-"

"He said he cared about me," she said lifting her head and meeting his eyes. She smiled a little, although obviously not without effort.

Kyouya felt himself go unpleasantly light. He knew this was going to happen. And he should have known it would be Kaoru. Kaoru was a good deal more insightful than his twin, his Tono and even, in many ways, Kyouya.

Haruhi blinked unwittingly at Kyouya. Her eyebrows knotted. "Just as a friend, of course," she clarified.

Kyouya knew that Haruhi was just convincing herself of that.

He would convince himself, too.

"Of course," he repeated, distracting himself by tightening his tie. "I'm glad to see that he's apologetic. He is, isn't he?" Kyouya, in all honesty, was relieved that the first year didn't seem to pose a threat. A shallow thought, but a natural one.

"He said he felt bad about it. And so did Hikaru, though Kaoru said that he would never admit it. What's going on hurts them, too."

The two sat like that for a while, in a miraculously comfortable silence.

When she spoke again, her voice was low with confession.

"Kyouya, I'm really glad that you're apologizing to Tamaki-senpai."

_Kyouya. _

"I'm glad, too."

* * *

They stepped out of the limo – Kyouya first, followed closely by Haruhi. 

It was amazing the way his eyes bolted to their target, standing amidst a small mob of coeds at the steps, trying to make his way into the building. They were all so concerned, Kyouya could hear them calling, that they had tried to leave it be, but what was wrong, Tamaki-sama ? Was there anything they could do?

Now, instead of the puppy, Tamaki was adopting the lonely prince persona, still unable to get into his routine role of prince and host club king. His voice was too low for Kyouya to hear, but he could see quite well. Tamaki's eyes lidded over and he put a hand on his heart, shaking his head no, that they could not help him now.

This lead to another violent eruption of concern, which Kyouya broke apart as he stepped through the crowd that had gathered. Most of the girls were quiet, and a few started whispering or blushing. It was clear, by the way their wide eyes glued themselves to him, that some girls thought Tamaki's melancholy was caused by Kyouya. Spurning him, or some such nonsense. Well, like most unreasonable theories, this one was half true.

Tamaki, momentarily forgetting to be angry, just looked puzzled. "Kyouya?"

"Tamaki, I'd like to talk to you." His eyes swept across the fangirls, and caught for a moment on Haruhi, in the distance, arms taut and hands clasped. "In private."

Tamaki remembered that he was supposed to be angry. "I think you can say it now. Right here. I don't see what you'd have to say that's so important."

He sounded livid, even more than _that night_, reminding Kyouya that Tamaki's feelings were not always overwrought.

"Fine, then. I'm sorry."

And Kyouya walked off with cool confidence, although he didn't quite now what would happen next.

Would he be forgiven. _That _was the question.

Only a few steps later, he felt an arm gripping his shoulder.

"Mon ami! Mon ami, ah, mon ami!" and Kyouya was glomped good and hard. So much like a puppy, Tamaki could not stay angry for long.

Kyouya felt an involuntary smile break across his face, and he allowed his friend to smother him for a few seconds more before pushing him away (still smiling).

"Get off me, fool."

"Mon ami! Mon ami!" Tamaki continued, near-sobbing. Kyouya's smile widened the tiniest bit. In his own over-the-top way, Tamaki was being completely earnest.

The girls could squeal and gasp and talk and gander all they wanted. Kyouya was just happy to be living this moment.

Just as Tamaki's melodramatics subsided, a radiant look replacing them, the bell rang for class. The attentive girls groaned and cries could be heard from all over the courtyard. Kyouya, still grinning deliriously, walked through the doors, his best friend practically clinging to him.

"Mon ami, I've missed you so! You can't understand how difficult life was without you!"

Tamaki's face took on a more serious edge, the blue eyes staring up into Kyouya's dark ones. "I didn't know what was going to happen to us. For a while… I thought we'd never speak to each other again. I thought I wouldn't be your friend anymore. I thought… our family would have to disband."

_Our happy little mamagoto, _Kyouya thought to himself, a chill working its way down his spine. Soon, all too soon, Tamaki's illusion would break. The chill came back colder and more sickening when he ran Tamaki's words through his mind. It was_ precisely_ how he had felt. Because of this, they could have lost each other. Every friendship, ever memory, might have been tainted, judging solely from the cold indifference that inhabited the club for the past weeks. It might have been a mamgoto, but it was theirs. This had nearly torn them all – the entire club - apart.

They would have gone back to their prior existences.

That numb, cold existence.

When Tamaki glomped Kyouya again, before the ring of the second bell, Kyouya didn't so much as attempt to push him off.

* * *

Kyouya told Tamaki that he wanted to talk. Tamaki enthusiastically agreed. 

Kyouya had no appetite, and Tamaki seemed to be too full of happiness's caffeine to be hungry. So the two sat in their all-but empty classroom, instead of heading down to lunch.

"I never got to say what I was sorry for," Kyouya began.

"Please, don't worry!" Tamaki said, dismissing it with a regal wave of his hand and an eager smile, "You've nothing to apologize for! Not anymore. We're friends forever again!"

"The host club is the only thing that keeps me sane."

Tamaki stared at his best friend, lips parted at this blunt revelation.

"Mori and Hunny. The twins. You. Haruhi. I would do anything not to see us break apart." He took in a breath. "I think you should know that I care very deeply about Haruhi."

Tamaki looked confused. As if he was not liking what he was hearing, but did not entirely understand it. "Well, of course. You're her mother, right?"

"I'm not her mother. You are not her father. The twins are not her brothers."

"Of course we are."

"You're not. You love her, and not like a daughter."

"But," Tamaki protested, bewilderment swirling in his eyes, "I'm her father. She's my daughter. What other kind of love could it be?"

Kyouya just scrutinized him in reply.

"But…"

"I wanted you to know that I never wanted this marriage. It was unfair to Haruhi, to me, to you, to everyone. I kept it secret because I didn't want everyone hurting like they are now. It was wrong – _I _was wrong - and I... I know that now. That I broke your trust and that's why you're hurt. I didn't want things to end up like this; this was what I was trying to _avoid_. Believe me, please."

"You're my friend. Of course I believe you," Tamaki told him gently.

Kyouya felt a flood of warm relief flow over him for the second time that day.

"The point, Tamaki, is that I'm not hiding anymore. I've made mistakes, and I'm sorry. That's where I stand. You may not see it, but what I said – about your feelings for Haruhi – is the truth." Kyouya stood.

"I haven't much of an appetite, but would you like to go and get some lunch now?"

Tamaki looked as though he was in a daze.

"Tamaki?"

Tamaki's reverie broke with a noticeable widening of his eyes. He turned and gave Kyouya a soft, uncharacteristically weak smile. "Of course, mon ami. Let's go."

* * *

"How did it go?" she whispered as he slipped next to her into his limousine. She was there again, waiting for him. Hands clasped. It was one of the rare days that there was no host club. 

"It went well, I suppose." He didn't want to tell her any of the details. Those were between him and Tamaki.

"Was he… are things all right?"

"He's planning a mermen cosplay as we speak."

It was true. Tamaki had slowly but surely regained his vigor as the day progressed. At lunch, he had started getting back to his new self by pondering cosplay ideas.

Haruhi smiled one of breath-taking smiles, tension released in a happy sigh. "He's more than okay, then."

This golden, elated quiet continued, until Haruhi spoke again. An almost insane giggle almost escaped her lips.

"I guess this means I'll have to talk him out of such a skin-baring cosplay. Again."

"I guess this means your cover is blown. But, don't worry, he won't take such risks, once he knows that his precious daughter's _honor _is on the line." She giggled again, and he smirked. Neither could shake off the warm, drunken feeling of the moment.

Their noses were nearly touching.

The mood intensified immediately – though it wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all.

Her eyes were large, and they stared into his solemn ones, which stared back into hers.

They both leaned in, noses really touching now…

And then, just as suddenly, both drew back.

Thankfully, Kyouya never blushed.

But Haruhi did, and he dared say that it was very pretty on her.


	11. By Any Other Name

a/n: What is _this? _An _update? _So soon? Thanks to summer, I now have waaay to much free time on my hands. Which means I get all my procrastinating done much more quickly and efficiently, which means I get to my fanfic sooner. xD Hehe. Anyway, I really did enjoy writing this chapter – especially the last scene. Kaoru deserves some love for his behavior in the latest manga chapters (although I suppose some might not agree) and thus I am giving it to him. :D

The megane (note: megane means glasses, or a character with glasses… like Kyouya) bit of the cosplay is not mine – Hatori Bisco mentioned using it in volume three, so I thought to incorporate it here. :) Which invites a disclaimer: I don't own anything! Eeks!

As always, enjoy and leave a nice review! I love them all, and I always try to respond if I can think of a fitting response besides 'Thank you". :D

* * *

"I knew you'd do the right thing, and apologize to him." 

He shrugged. "Hm."

"Oooh! Look! Isn't that little girl adorable? Don't tell me she's not. I hope my child is that cute." Fuyumi smiled sweetly and waved at the little girl, who was too busy to notice her. Her free hand, Kyouya saw, went deftly to her stomach.

"You might want to stop squealing over all the children. Their parents will think you're some kind of desperate kidnapper."

Fuyumi looked worried, and she glanced quickly over at one of the mothers – who, as Kyouya had predicted, was looking just a little strangely in their direction. Fuyumi sent a large wave over their way, and she smiled widely to match. Kyouya was mortified.

But apparently it worked, for the mother cracked a smile and went back to watching her child stumble around the playground.

"They're all so _cute!_"

"Do you know whether your child will be a boy or girl yet?" He only asked to humor her, knowing full well what her answer would be.

"No, of course not. It's much too early. But don't try to change the subject," she said playfully, tweaking his nose. It wrinkled in distaste.

"Please don't do that."

"I really am glad you righted things with Tamaki-kun. You're so good for each other."

Her smile mellowed. "What about Haruhi?"

At hearing her name, thoughts of her that he'd held back rushed to fill his mind; like water breaking from a dam. In a jolt, he wondered whether or not he should regret his actions only an hour ago.

Did she…

Was it possible…

No.

"I'm going to tell Father to cancel the engagement."

She paused. "I guess you really are doing the right thing," she admitted, her voice low, "After all. You're only in high school. And… as you pointed out. There are many types of happiness – many different _people's _happiness – to consider."

_Clinging to our mamagoto illusion for as long as possible._

Kyouya nodded.

Fuyumi sat down with a thump on the park bench, but Kyouya stayed standing. He was still wearing his uniform pants, and it would be best not to get them dirty.

"You're too cautious," Fuyumi told him, her light laugh creeping into her words. "I don't care if Father finds out, you know. What can he do?"

Kyouya relented, and slumped down on the park bench. "Nothing. I'm already down a few years' worth in his good graces."

She fidgeted. "Who cares?" she replied flippantly. A brazen façade that did not work at all for her.

He didn't answer.

"Oh, Kyouya."

He crossed his arms.

"I'm proud of you. You did the right thing. Even if it cost you in_ his_ books."

"Most of the storm has passed, but I still have to deal with the wreckage at home."

She squeezed his hand. She hesitated, as if she was debating whether or not to tell him something.

"It'll be okay. As your big sister, I promise."

"How would you know?"

She giggled. "Have some respect for your big sister's word!"

* * *

The next day, life seemed to resume its normal tide. 

Kyouya woke up promptly at his third alarm, grumbling curses under his breath.

He ate his average breakfast of eggs and toast, accompanied by his black coffee. Accompanied by the soundless clink of kitchenware. It was the same as always. Except…

His eyes slid over to the empty chair at the head of the table. His father, again, was absent.

* * *

Haruhi hoped that maybe life would default back to normal, finally. 

In her mind, it already had. Although the last afternoon kept tugging at her, she stubbornly resisted its pull and continued with her daily activities.

_No thinking about Kyouya, _she would remind herself._ No thinking about Kyouya._

But somehow, one thought crept up behind her, and whispered slyly in her ear:

_It feels odd to be calling him Kyouya, doesn't it?_

In fact, she had been using his name a lot more lately.

Thoroughly irritated, she shook this thought off and tried to concentrate on the history notes before her. She stuffed another spoonful of Melon Crunch into her mouth and chewed noisily.

_No thinking about Kyouya._

"Haruhi!"

A pair of arms (obviously her father's) grabbed her from behind.

"Hi, Dad."

"You need to be surprised!"

She turned to face him. "But I'm not."

"Haruhi! You didn't so much as see me last night. Didn't you miss me at all? Can't you at least say 'good morning'?"

She smiled. "Oh. Good morning, Dad."

"That's better." He took his seat across from her at their little table. "I'm so sorry that I didn't get to come home before you went to sleep last night! The bar was extra busy, for who-knows-why, and the boss wouldn't let me go home last night for dinner. We've been hopping all week, in fact. Haruhi, I've hardly _seen _you all week! It's horrible!"

Haruhi was used to this. Although ever since Ryoji had begged and pleaded his boss _("She's so young! Her mother is dead! Without a father figure, she might end up fighting in the streets!") _he usually was allowed an hour off each night for dinner.

"That's fine. I'm proud that you're working hard, and perhaps if you're busy at work you'll stop buying those silly dresses."

Silly dresses. Debt. Arranged marriage.

_No thinking about Kyouya. _

"Haruhi? Is something wrong?" Ryoji saw the way she stiffened suddenly, the way that consciousness of her surroundings slipped from her eyes.

"Eh? Oh, nothing. I'd better get going, or I'll be late for school. Bye!"

Ryoji glanced over at the clock. She had twenty minutes until Kyouya-kun's limousine came to pick her up. And why was Haruhi – always so calm – now so frazzled?

There was something seriously strange going on with his daughter.

* * *

The limousine ride was quiet. They exchanged their routine greetings: 

"Good morning, Haruhi."

"Hello, Kyouya."

Kyouya noted that she had not tacked on the 'senpai'. Good.

Other than that detail, her greeting was level; her behavior the same as always. He had to bite his tongue to prevent saying anything more, and she did not say anything, either.

* * *

As he was heading to the lunch room (he'd needed to scribble down a few quick notes, and had told Tamaki to go on without him) Kyouya bumped into someone. Not a whole book-dropping, floor-falling scenario, only a bump of shoulders. 

"Excuse me," he told the other student with a curt nod.

The other student looked up to meet Kyouya's eyes. It was one of two identical faces; in other words, a Hitachiin.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

Normally, the question in his voice would prod Kyouya to respond with, "Why are you so surprised?" But the surprise was justified – being from different grades, the two normally would have no contact with one another during the day.

Which prodded Kyouya, instead, to raise an eyebrow. The Hitachiin grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry. Um, it's Kaoru," he added.

They kind of just… stood there for a moment. But then Kaoru seemed to snap out of whatever mood he was in.

"See you in club," he called over his shoulder, as he walked away, an unnecessary spring in his step.

It sunk in. Knowing which twin it was, Kyouya was able to conclude that Kaoru had wanted to talk to him. Kaoru had detoured from his usual path to accidentally-on-purpose bump into Kyouya.

It made sense, in a way. Lately, Kyouya had been able to find more and more similarities between the Kaoru and himself – though they were not at all evident. The greatest lay understood but unsaid: a sense of loyalty and responsibility.

Kyouya realized why he had not used that awkward silence to speak to him about the club's situation, or about Haruhi, or Tamaki or Hikaru: because he had not wanted to.

He felt guilty. He felt awful. But the truth was, Kyouya no longer _quite _felt that sense of responsibility.

* * *

When Haruhi walked into the club after school that day, things were bustling and busy – at least, as much as they could with only four of the seven members present. Even though she had the nerve to be late (again), she couldn't help but stop in her tracks and grin widely before making her presence known. 

_Everything is back to normal. _

"Hey, everyone," she called. The twins, busy doing last-minute costume alterations, gave her a nearly simultaneous "Hi, Haruhi!" Mori smiled her way, and Hunny shouted, "_Haru-chan!" _before glomp-tackling her to the ground.

"Hunny-senpai!" The two exchanged huge smiles, and unspoken words passed between them: _Isn't this wonderful?_

The door opened, and in came the two second-years.

"-and I was thinking, you know, we could all do that megane theme. Like yours, Kyouya, only take it a step further. After all, most females have a megane fantasy at some – HARUHI!" And Haruhi was glomp-tackled for the second time that day.

"Haruhi! Haruhi, Haruhi, _Haruhi!_ I bet you didn't know!" Tamaki beamed and let her out of his tight hug. "That we have a new cosplay today!"

Haruhi suppressed a laugh and tried to keep a stony face. For once, she didn't at all mind his over-affectionate ways. In fact, his hug – which normally would have been suffocating – felt like it had lightened her breathing, relieved her of a load.

_Tamaki is back to normal._

"Tamaki-senpai, I would appreciate if you would get out of my personal space bubble."

The twins snickered, and Tamaki rounded on them.

"You _doppelgangers! _Please mind to your own business!" He stood haughtily, brushed off his pants (which did not need to be brushed off), and cleared his throat. "Behold! Our new, schoolboy cosplay!"

The twins snickered again.

Tamaki whirled on them. "_What _is that behavior?"

"Tamaki," Kyouya spoke up, "I think what the twins mean is… we're already schoolboys."

"So why are we dressing up in these uniforms when we're _already _wearing uniforms?" asked Hikaru dryly.

Tamaki sniffed. "You all wouldn't get it. These Ouran uniforms are, of course, in good taste, but ladies love something new and different! These uniforms, furthermore, are so refined-yet-gallant that any female would swoon upon seeing them!" He glanced pointedly at Haruhi. Who was not swooning.

"It still sounds really stupid," mumbled Kaoru, just loud enough to hear.

Tamaki smiled patiently. "And that, of course, is why I'm adding the secret ingredient!" He fumbled for something in the bag he was holding, and held it out triumphantly. "Glasses! We shall be the ideal of a Japanese schoolboy! Quiet. Shy-but-calculated." Tamaki whipped on the pair of glasses and immediately snapped into a pose that was a mix between lonely prince and overly-exaggerated Kyouya.

"Is that supposed to be me?" the said megane asked.

Now the twins burst out laughing.

"At any rate," Haruhi said, meanwhile examining one of the cosplay costumes, "I'm glad Kyouya talked you out of that mermaid cosplay."

It didn't happen for a moment. The twins continud to laugh.

Kyouya noticed it first, and stiffened.

It was all downhill from there. Downhill, off a cliff, and into cold water.

The room froze.

Haruhi's stomach lurched.

_Not so normal at all. _

It occurred to her that this happiness – the first they'd had for a long time – was merely an illusion. One that none of them could keep up much longer. Despite how amiable they'd acted, despite the happy front they'd put up, they were walking on dangerously thin ice.

Which had cracked as soon as she'd spoken Kyouya's name minus the 'senpai'.

Something stung in her eyes. It was such an unusual, strange sensation, that she didn't know what is was until she brought her hand to them and brushed away something wet.

"_Oh,_" she whispered, inaudibly, but no sooner had she done so than she felt hands taking hers.

"It's a good thing he didn't, poor girl," it was Kaoru. He spoke, but she could hardly hear his words. She was focusing on his expression. It was taut, as though he was trying hard to keep a grip on it. "Because, of course, that pervert would want you to go as a shirtless mermaid, and what kind of shameful behavior is that?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, as Kaoru waited for someone to pick up his cue.

As was likely, it was Hikaru who jumped in, gripping Haruhi's by her shoulders.

"Sweet, dear Haruhi. Poor thing indeed. It's just shameful, Kaoru. I can't believe he would think such _shameful _thoughts, but, you know, we should expect that from him by now."

"_What?_" Tamaki was easily pulled in, altogether seeming to forget what had happened a moment ago. "_WHAT? _How dare you say such things! You'll corrupt her mind! I'm not the pervert here, you are! _Hey! _Stop touching her there!"

* * *

Kyouya was not stupid. 

He noticed that after that, the laughter didn't come as easy.

When they laughed, it was forced. Everyone was a little unresponsive, though worst were the seniors. Normally cheerful Hunny was immersed in a very un-loli-shota-like bout of quiet reflection. But, of course, their customers (_so much like their hosts_) saw what they wanted to see.

He noticed that everyone's eyes seemed to stray in his direction. And that, when he looked up from his records, those eyes would snap away.

He noticed that Haruhi didn't smile much after that.

And he noticed, most of all, that not once did Tamaki call him "Mother". Not once did he refer to the twins as their "unruly sons".

And not once did he call Haruhi his "daughter".

* * *


	12. Everything Flips

a/n: It's some wonderful, wonderful Kyou-Haru this chappie! (is in a good mood). Hopefully, this should balance out all the serious-ness of the last chapter. Although… it's quite serious as well. The first part, I feel drags. :(But it's Kyou-Haru! A lot of reflection, because a lot of Haruhi's feelings had to be accounted for. It was unexpectedly difficult, though I shouldn't have been so surprised. O.o

Enjoy and leave a review:D

* * *

"Have some respect for your father!" 

Ranka, not yet changed out of his work clothes, held his hands to his hips and gave a scathing (or so he hoped) look at his daughter.

Haruhi just blinked, but then did the strangest thing:

Averted her eyes.

In all of her fifteen years, Ryoji rarely saw his daughter do that. She was honest and straightforward; always was able to look him in the eye.

So what perplexed him was, for the first time, he didn't know _why. _Why she was deliberately hiding something from him.

And, equally important, _what _she was hiding from him.

"Nothing. What would you like for dinner tonight?"

"_Don't try to weasel out of answering your father, young lady! _I demand an answer!"

He stood like that, with his hands on his hips, for a good long moment. Haruhi just blinked up at him again and turned to the stove.

"Hm."

It clicked.

_Kyouya._

It had something to do with that lovely, wealthy, handsome young man.

"Haruhi," he said aloud, tentatively, "does this have something to do with that lovely, wealthy, handsome young man?"

"_Eh?_ D-Dad, it's not…"

It was a brief victory. Ryoji beamed at his daughter's stutter. Of course he had it right. He was always right.

"It has _nothing _to do with Tamaki," Haruhi finally assured him eagerly, her poise returning.

_Her _poise might have been returning, but Ryoji lost all grip on _his. _

"_What?" _It was a near-scream, shrill and saturated with disbelief. "_WHAAAT?"_

Haruhi flinched. "Oh. I should've known you would never call Tamaki 'lovely' and et cetera, but the way you said it…"

"_Of course _I would say it that way! If I thought that my daughter was… was… in…" _love. _He shook his head rapidly, and began a new, also unpleasant chain of thought.

"You mean to tell me that instead of carrying through with that lovely, wealthy, handsome young man that… that… "

Haruhi sighed. Now things were just getting irritating.

"Please calm down. I never said any such thing. Tamaki and I are going out to breakfast tomorrow for 'father and daughter bonding time'," she explained, putting air quotes around "father and daughter". It was the phrasing Tamaki had used. "And I new you'd overreact."

A dark look came over Ranka's face as he mumbled something.

She blinked, suddenly remembering. "Although…"

She looked up at her father, then at her foot. For the second she'd seen his face, it had glimmered with curiosity and hope.

"Although… I never planned to follow through with the arranged marriage anyway."

Yes, the time had come. Haruhi could lie to her father no longer.

"_Nooooo!!"_

"_Calm. Down."_

Ryoji took one final, deep breathe. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Daddy lost control. But," he gave her a set of puppy eyes to rival her 'other' father's, "I just…" he shook his head and trailed off, all traces of playfulness gone.

"Just what?"

"I should've never agreed to this."

Haruhi crossed her arms uncomfortably.

"When you came home from Kyouya's – that first time, after I told you the news - you seemed irritated still, but you were more like yourself than when you'd left. I thought it was some kind of sign, that you'd come to terms and decided that you'd do it. Probably not because you loved him. I'm not a complete idiot. I should've known. It's no surprise to me now that you're terminating it. At the time… I thought it was probably because the Ootoris had money; could make your dream to be a lawyer come true."

Haruhi looked up at him.

"Haruhi," he asked gently, "when you said that about your mother…" he trailed off again.

"Go on," she said, quietly.

"When you said that about your mother – wanting to be like she and I were - I remembered why you wanted to be a lawyer in the first place."

Haruhi gave a little smile. "She was the best lawyer in the world."

"You always so much wanted to be like her. And Kotoko would never have wanted an arranged marriage."

Haruhi did not reply.

"If your heart tells you to be with that foreign bug, then, well… I'll stop calling him a foreign bug."

Her father noticed that here she turned pink – just the lightest shade.

"Dad. I don't have… He doesn't even…"

She stopped.

She thought.

She thought hard

"I don't… think I have any feelings for Tamaki-senpai," she finished, after a few seconds.

Her father sniffed disapprovingly. "I don't believe that."

"Well, I have to leave. I have to go pick something quick up to eat."

"No! What about the marriage? I mean…" his voice lowered, "I only mean… doesn't Kyouya weigh on your mind at all? I just want you to be able to talk to me about this." She thought she saw his eyes go misty.

She felt the blush creep up her neck again, more vindictive this time. "That's not true. He's not bothering me _at all,_" she said, the last part coming out a bit too quickly and harshly.

_Don't think about Kyouya. _

_Don't think about that time you almost…. You know._

_Most of all, don't think about the club._

And Haruhi realized, with a start, that there was a lot she didn't think about. Whenever something was unpleasant, she didn't want to face it. She circumvented it. It had been the same with her mother's death – she carried on by not lingering.

But perhaps, when her problems involved the living, that was not the solution.

Her father watched this with sudden fascination. "Do you… do you _like _him?" His eyes misted up. "Eh, my baby! One way or another you're going to lea-"

"Kyouya-senpai isn't exactly the person you think he is, Dad," she said, a tad bitter. And wanting her father to stop his crying. It was so irritating. So irritating, and… and she didn't like it. At all. She wanted him to stop thinking that Kyouya was some kind of god, because he wasn't.

If he was the kind of person her father thought he was, why hadn't Kyouya come to her aid at the club?

Why had it been Kaoru, instead, who'd helped her?

Not that she didn't appreciate it, but did Kyouya have something up his ass that prevented him from helping her out when she really needed it? And, furthermore, when her problem involved him?

Why couldn't Kyouya fix his mess?

Another thought:

Was she taking this too seriously?

She sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I'll be back in a couple hours."

And she shut the door behind her, wondering if the answer might be that she was just scared.

* * *

Tamaki blabbered on and on, sometimes taking her hand to pull her along outside the bustling row of commoners shops. 

"_Oooh! _Haruhi! Chinese food! Let's eat!" And, once again, he took her hand and he pulled her into the resturaunt. Bells jingled as they entered.

"For _breakfast, _senpai?"

"... oh." He looked befuddled for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Well. Who are you to deny Chinese food the benefit of the doubt? It could make for a fine breakfast!"

"I doubt it."

"Mmmm, tasty!" he said, glancing at a menu that hung on the wall. He said it without conviction.

"… Maybe we should try a nice American-style pancake house?" Haruhi suggested weakly.

She heard the noisy rustle of a newspaper page behind her, and turned. At first, she didn't recognize him (the paper obscured his face), just thought it odd that there should be someone else here at this time of morning.

She should've recognized those pale, spidery hands.

Still, she didn't know who he was until he put the paper down to drink out of an appropriately king-sized travel cup of coffee.

Probably hyper-caffeinated to counter his AB tendencies.

"_K-Kyouya!" _she sputtered, forgetting to tack on the senpai. Tamaki didn't seem very bothered by it.

"Kyouya!"

In fact, he actually seemed happy. Although a bit confused.

"What brings you here?"

Haruhi just looked on, waiting for the answer to Tamaki's question.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Tamaki. Or Haruhi. I'd like to talk to either of you, but not both of you. At the same time, that is."

"_Who _brings you here?" Haruhi butted in suspiciously, as if she dreaded hearing the answer.

"Your father kindly informed me that Tamaki was taking you out to breakfast." He took a sip of coffee. "And Tamaki, _your _father was kind enough to tell me your whereabouts. Knowing that you were going amongst commoners, he set up a few bodyguards to follow you." And he nodded near the window. Haruhi and Tamaki turned quickly, but didn't see a thing.

"Well," Tamaki informed him, a bit haughtily, "Haruhi and I are doing special father daughter bonding time!"

Kyouya raised an eyebrow, and Haruhi noticed something like pained pity flick through his face. She wondered…

"But," Tamaki added, brightening considerably, "You're welcome to join us!"

Kyouya actually chuckled.

Haruhi inwardly growned, and she had to bite her lip to keep from walking out then and there.

For whatever reason, she did not feel like speaking to him.

Although the feeling was intensified now, it had been lurking, looming, ever since they almost… you know.

Tamaki plopped down, and Haruhi more carefully slid into her seat.

"So, _mon ami, ma fille, _what would you like to order ?"

"I'm good with my coffee, thank you."

Haruhi looked over the menu, and inadvertently felt herself drooling. Chinese food for breakfast was certainly an odd choice, but food was food, and for a commoner restaurant, the food was looking especially tempting. She saw the numbers behind the dishes' names and her eyes bugged out. For a commoner restaurant, this was looking pretty _pricy._

She cast a glance over at Kyouya. He was examining the menu with mild, pleasant interest on his face. She leaned to her left.

"Tamaki?" she whispered, so soft it was nearly a breath.

"Yes?" he whispered back, much louder. Kyouya looked up. She gritted her teeth. Much as she hated it, she would have to ask the rich bastard for money. But as long as that rich bastard's name wasn't Kyouya, she could live it down.

"Is… um, you're paying right? Kyouya won't be, you know, using money from my pencils or anything to-"

"I can hear you," Kyouya responded in a normal tone.

"Of course! I would never make a lady pay! That wouldn't be gentleman-like at all." He blinked at Kyouya. "And I guess I can treat you, too, Kyouya. If you've changed your mind and feel like eating."

"No need," he said pleasantly, "I can use money from Haruhi's pencils to easily afford this."

He smiled at her. She wasn't sure if he was joking or being sadistic or both, so she just glared.

Strangely, Kyouya displayed a puzzled frown and looked back down at his menu.

"Hm… I must find the cook!" Tamaki said, suddenly standing with a purpose. "I want him to tell us which dishes are best. I've never been here before, and as every Frenchman knows, food is of a great priority." He smiled brightly at the two and walked over to the counter. It was a large restaurant, Haruhi realized. And totally empty but for them, the only people insane enough to order breakfast here. Of course, the owners could probably afford the large building, what with all they –

She looked down.

His long, almost spider-like fingers, had rested over her hand.

She sucked in a breath.

It was strange, how much larger his hands were than hers. She had short, not-quite-stubby fingers, but her hands were small. Despite their size, his were thin and probably very nimble.

"Haruhi," he began, his voice low, "why are you angry?"

She blinked.

"Well, I don't know." A tinge of sarcasm.

His eyes continued to search hers.

"Maybe… maybe because we're all falling apart."

She was surprised. Without her even thinking, the answer to all her questions had slipped from her own lips.

She saw him frown. She saw the pain that he couldn't conceal behind his lenses. He knew they by 'we', she did not mean herself and him alone.

"I promise you, Haruhi. We won't. It's strange, you know it as well as I do. It's painful. But we're only getting used to… " here he quickly pushed his glasses up with his free hand, "to our feelings."

Pause.

"What?"

He shook his head just slightly, a sign of resignation.

"Tamaki loves you, you know."

She looked down at her menu.

"I know." She realized that she _had_ known, for a while. For so long, it'd just become rooted into her, but she never bothered to ponder it. So much that it didn't take Kyouya's blunt words to make her see.

"Do you love him?" There's something in his voice that asked her politely to be serious about this. To truly think about it. This was not the same situation as with her father that morning. Kyouya wanted an answer.

For once she allowed every speck of evidence to be inspected and presented. She didn't block out some things, convince herself of the meaning behind others.

He had jumped into the water when she'd been pushed off the cliff, risking his own safety for hers. _He was a fool_, she'd told herself at the time. That was still true, but he was also a very brave, kind, loving fool.

He had comforted her that night, when the fear had cornered her in a wardrobe. _He was doing it because he had some sick fetish,_ she had convinced herself at the time (this was most certainly _not _true, she realized now, she had been too hasty for an excuse… as had the twins… as they all had). He had allowed her to wrap her arms around him and hold him; he had held her and been kind to her.

There were so many other incidents.

He was always with her, protecting her, managing to make her laugh.

And he was a strong person. She admired that. "_I'm myself before I'm a Suoh,"_ he had once said.

The evidence was laid out. She considered for a moment before making her ruling.

She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. No.

It wasn't possible that she loved him, was it? He had always just been there. A lonely prince, a comedic character in his own drama, a fool, a… a _friend. _A brother, a father, a puppy

_A friend. _

That was all he was to her. A friend, that she loved. So much she thought it was _love. _

But now she knew it wasn't. She didn't know why, but it was so apparent, now. She had been scared it was love; too scared to look any further in the matter. By not looking, she obviously could no have seen.

Or had something changed?

She looked at Kyouya and felt something somewhere flip.

Maybe just her entire world.

_Of course not_, she assured herself, louder than her instincts that screamed otherwise.

"No."

He just nodded.

"Here's a more difficult one."

He took a breath, which even Haruhi recognized as less-than-stable.

"Do you feel anything for me? Anything at all?"

Her mouth dropped to the floor. Was this really Kyouya? Asking her _this _question?

Perhaps, that day, _that time… you know, _he really had been leaning….

In a strangely smooth, quick action, he took his hand from hers at the ring of Tamaki's voice.

"Kyouya! Haruhi! Peking duck, he said, peking duck. He somehow didn't seem eager to talk. Wait! No! I just realized! He only told me the name of one dish, and we should all get different dishes so we can-"

"I'll be leaving now," Kyouya announced, rising from his chair.

"_What? _Surely not so soon, Kyou-"

But he suddenly found himself dumb, as Kyouya leaned down to whisper – deathly quiet - into Haruhi's ear.

"I - I don't need an answer, if you don't want to give me one. But to let you know, I cancelled the engagement."

She felt herself go light, and her breathe caught in her chest.

Had he _really _managed to do it? So soon? So suddenly?

Perhaps Kyouya was a god after all.

"Kyouya's been acting a little bit strange lately," he said uneasily. He glanced at Haruhi.

_I think you should know that I care very deeply about Haruhi._

The way he whispered into her ear…

The way Haruhi, now, was touching her fingers to her lips in shock…

"He said he cancelled the engagement," she said, awed.

Tamaki was actually lost for words.


	13. Just Tell Her

_a/n: _More Fuyumi! I love her. I love _writing _her. X3

Wheeee! Another chapter, again, very soon. So enjoy. :3 Hopefully another will be out soon, and I promise, there will be major KyouyaxHaruhi. xD

As always, I lovelovelove you guys for reviewing. More reviews... please? (puppy dog eyes) C'mon. Don't you want that KyouyaxHaruhi next chapter? (yes, this is a blatant attempt to bribe you into reviewing... even though you _know _it'll be there anyway...) I'm very selfish, I've actually gotten a lot of reveiws. :D But I do appreciate each one of them. xD

I've bumped the rating from K+ to T. (scratches head) I thought I'd changed it already… eh. Well, nothing about the story is going to change the level of appropriateness, I just feel that's what it should be rated. For the language and the angst.

Thanks so much once again to anyone who's still reading!

* * *

_It's strange, _he had told her, _and it's painful._

This was the truth. And he had not merely been talking about the host club.

It was strange, he thought, that he had reverted back to his old ways of hiding behind a well-placed lie or two. And it was more than painful.

No, the marriage was off. He had not lied to _Haruhi. _He had lied to his father. Which ultimately, would land him in a much greater mess,

The night before, after school, his mother told him that his father had called him – Kyouya specifically. She sounded excited. "He's been out of town these past few days, Kyou, _that's _why he hasn't been around."

Kyouya suspected that his father's timing to leave on such a business trip had more to do with him than his mother wanted to believe. But, nonetheless, he found himself listening to the ring of his father's cell phone while he waited for him to pick up.

"Ootori Yoshio."

"It's Kyouya."

"Ah. Good. You're returning my message."

"Yes, Mother said that you called."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Good. I wanted to talk to you about your marriage, Kyouya."

He cringed, but his father couldn't see it. "I thought we would wait until Haruhi and I were twenty-one before we made any prepara-"

"No, not preparations."

For a moment Kyouya felt a swell of hope. Maybe his father would say something along the lines of, "Kyouya, let's try something else. I can see how you're hurting and-"

"-Behaving badly," his father finished.

Kyouya blinked. He considered how much he would risk to act like he'd just heard that, but losing any information was far greater a threat.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I _said,_ Kyouya, that I feel there's something wrong with you. Your behavior lately has been reckless and defiant. Just a second ago, you weren't focusing. This is nothing like you. Stop trying to 'protect' that girl from this marriage, or whatever you think you're doing. I don't want you to cancel this marriage. She'll gain multiple benefits from this, as will you."

He paused, to let this sink in. Kyouya blanched, but again, he was grateful that his father couldn't see.

"Kyouya, I am willing to forget this. When I come home, I'd like to talk more in-depth with you about the matter, but right now I'm running late for a business appointment. I'll see you tomorrow."

There was a beep and the phone went back to silence.

Kyouya felt a rush of unexplained satisfaction that he supressed, accompanied by a nagging, suspicious feeling in his gut.

* * *

Kyouya had grown quite used the the nuances of humans, and he almost enjoyed reading them so clearly. His father was one of those people – in fact, the only person – that Kyouya found so clinical, cold and correct, that there were practically _no _nuances to his words or behavior. 

But, just then, there were five.

First: he had called Kyouya by his given name. Twice. This was important, and his father impressed that by using his name.

Second: he had noticed something was up. _How could he have not? _A silly question. Of _course _Ootori Yoshio would notice. He just wouldn't normally verbalize.

Third: He had not said anything about himself. His father had said, _she will gain multiple benefits. _Interesting, now, that he should try to cover up the root of his decision – his rivalry with Suoh – so carefully. This was where his gut began to protest, to warn him. Then: _as will you. _What benefits would he gain from a commoner? What kind of logic was his father using? It certainly wasn't normal, but if it was all to cover his true reason…

His gut squeezed.

Fourth: He wanted to talk about this.

His father never wanted to talk, unless it was about grades or connections or money or power.

Never about Kyouya.

Fifth: He was late for a meeting. This cemented the feeling of satisfaction that rose in him.

Ootori Yoshio did not like to be late for meetings, unless he was late because he was attending another important meeting.

He wanted to talk to Kyouya about Kyouya.

And this was the equivalent of an important meeting.

He stifled his smile, but with the disturbing sensation that something was not right in his original calculations.

Now, more than ever, he had to find a way.

Wait...

* * *

He didn't need his father to feel powerful, Kyouya thought to himself. He didn't need that approval to feel like he was worth something. 

"Sir, please. Your initials on the dotted line."

Kyouya stared blankly at the paper. Finally, he signed his initials, and the papers were whisked away.

"We'll send these papers to the woman in question."

He had done the write thing – he had written a formal, initialed goodbye to any hope of marrying Haruhi.

And it felt

* * *

_Ding-dong._

"_Coming!"_

The door cracked open. Fuyumi blinked, then broke into a wide grin.

"Kyouyaaaa! Come in, come in."

Kyouya followed her through the main hall, taking her lead as she hopped over flat boxes and slid around thick ones.

"You really need to do something about all this baby junk you ordered."

"I went on a little bit of a.. a splurge," she admitted guiltily. "I was so excited, I guess I just let that take over."

"I've been wondering-"

He squeezed past a particularly large pile of boxes

"-why that is."

She stopped, and he almost bumped into her.

"Fuyumi?"

"Eh? Oh, sorry, sorry! Follow me, to the kitchen!"

"Tea?"

"Mmm-hm."

"Is this because you think that's what commoners use to calm themselves?"

"I can't help it. Tamaki-kun told me how the commoners love their tea – almost more than the French love their wine – and I figured he would know."

Kyouya rolled his eyes.

"He's not a commoner. What experience would he have?"

"Well, the French part..."

"Eh."

They finally reached the kitchen.

"So you know about him being half-French."

"He told me himself," she said defensively, "I didn't hear it through gossip, if that's what you mean."

"I wasn't implying anything like that, Fuyumi." He smiled.

"About me being so excited… " she sat down, "Kyouya, I really am so happy! Happier than I've been in a long time!"

He could tell, by the huge grin on her face, by the way she bit her lip to contain a nervous giggle, that she really was happy. And not sure she should feel that way.

"But not about Osamu, right?"

"Nope. But it's okay. Really."

He wasn't going to tell her he'd been spying, but he was going to talk to her about what he had heard, albeit indirectly.

Some problems should not be circumvented.

"Fuyumi-" He said suddenly, desperately, but she cut him off by shaking her head.

"Kyouya, please. Don't."

"But Fuyumi-"

She shook her head again. "Please?"

"No. We need to –"

She smiled, but it was impossible not to notice the gleam of water that escaped her eye, slid swifltly down her cheek.

When she spoke, it was forced through a lump in her throat. "Kyouya, I-I'm content. I'm happy. I… I have a baby. I'm going to have a baby, and I have the best baby brother in the world." She swallowed, hard. "My husband isn't as cruel as you seem to believe." Sniff. "And I have friends," she finished vaguely. "I don't need anything else."

_The best baby brother in the world._

Those were big shoes to fill.

And so Kyouya pushed up his glasses, letting the pain leak out of his eyes. But when he spoke, he didn't speak through the lump in his throat.

He _would _fill them.

"No, not physically. Not even verbally. But his way of life has beaten you down from Fuyumi to a Hamata."

She looked at him, stunned by his business-like response.

"Who are your friends? The way you say that, I almost doubt if they're really, truly your friends."

Another tear slid down her cheek, although her wide-eyed, surprised expression stayed intact. "My childhood friends from Ouran."

"Are _some _of them, I'm sure. But definitely not that girl you met at Tokyo University, the commoner. You took a great liking to her." He observed her reaction. "Has Tamaki been to visit yet? I haven't heard anything more about your commoner resturaunt map scheme. Maybe because he's illegitimate? And I notice Matoko-san isn't here. Did you get too friendly with her? A servant?"

"He's _really _not as cruel as you think."

He softened his expression. Fuyumi sniffed. "He cares. He does. More than the others." Another sniff.

Kyouya blinked. "What do you mean?"

"When I was going to be married. I ultimately got to choose my husband out of the ones he'd picked."

When Kyouya just stared at her, understanding only just entering his eyes, she continued.

"I knew all of them a little bit, but I had a discussion about the marriage with each one." She swallowed again, to continue. "They all were very pleasant, discussing the advantages of each deal. I would only need to provide two, no, _one_ heir for them! Lowest bidder wins the signature of an Ootori on the marriage pact!"

The sarcasm, the bitterness, in her voice, once again stuns him. This is not Fuyumi.

"Osamu was the only one who was any different. He acted like my feelings mattered, and for once not just about for how long I would share his bed. Or how much money I would gain from it." She sniffed, loudly, and Kyouya looked around the room for a tissue box. He didn't see one.

He reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it tight.

"Then why did you think Haruhi would be any different?"

Sniff. Quiet. A whisper.

"It _was_ different."

Quiet.

"You love her so much. You would never do anything to hurt her."

He responded with a whisper.

"That's far too romantic a thought to be practical. You're far too hopeful to think straight."

Her shoulders slumped down in defeat.

"Kyouya, forget the marriage. Just tell her you love her, all right?"

She looked over at him.

"Kyouya?"

His eyes were misted over with thought.

"Kyou-"

"Do you really think I should?"

She was taken aback by this swing. Kyouya didn't usually question _himself, _and the fact that he was even considering taking this step made her wipe her tears and concentrate on the new matter at hand.

"Yes."

Only after she replied, did she sense the nature of this question. It was not _will I?, _but _are you really sure about that?._

""I've begun to wonder, but now, more than ever… I wonder if I'm not right for her. She says she doesn't love Tamaki, but who knows. He's a better person than me. The twins. They know her better than I do."

Fuyumi gaped. "You two are _made _for each other!"

"You're beginning to sound like Renge."

"Renge? Who-? Oh! That nice girl that-"

"I'm not exactly made for love," he responded dryly.

He remembered her words – _You,_ _Kyouya-kun, are going to have some problems - _and shrugged in distaste.

"No! The opposite! You're one of the most compassionate people I know! Just as much as Tamaki."  
"I'm not."

"Yes, you _are! _It's just deeper!" She poked him (slightly painfully) where his heart was. "You hide it. You don't want anyone to see it. You think that if you hide it, you'll become what Father wants. But you'll _never _be what he wants, Kyouya, because you're not made of ice and mechanical gears."

Kyouya stared down at her finger, aimed still at his heart.

"I recognize myself in him. And in Osamu."

She took in a sharp breath, and for a moment he feared he said the wrong thing. Feared she would cry again.

"Don't tell me that."

Her voice is low, solemn, and she looks as if she really will cry again. Only for him.

"You'll only be turning your back on Haruhi, and on Tamaki-kun. Those two, Kyouya, believe in you. Even if you don't. And I'm with them."

It felt like a minute. It was only a second.

A smile broke onto his face, and Fuyumi's smile closely followed.

"I love you."

"Save it for Haruhi."

"Fuyumi, be realistic," he scoffed.

But now he was sounding a lot less harsh on himself, a lot more like he was actually considering it. "I've already made my feelings plain, but to actually say it would be another level entirely. Haruhi is… clueless. And this would force her to see, _force _her to choose. I'm not sure she's ready for that."

She squeezed him in a tight embrace.

"See? You'd never do anything to hurt her."

This time it was not an argument, but a reassurance.

It was at this moment, when the two dove headfirst into laughter, that Kyouya's cellphone rang.

"Ootori Kyouya."

"It's your father."

The chill in his voice set off an alert in Kyouya's very being.

"Get over here. Now."

_Beep._

The two were silenced, as Kyouya stared down at his phone.


	14. That's Why

a/n: I suddenly feel very guilty for mangling the Japanese language in my attempts to use honorifics correctly. O.o But! Here is the latest chapter, which took me long enough… I hope you all enjoy! I worked hard on it, although there are still parts that are annoying me... ah well. There usually will be. :( I got a _ton _of reviews last chapter, which was fantastic. Thanks so much to all reviewers, and just to anyone sticking with this so far. :D

* * *

It was not one of the annoying maids, simultaneous with fangirls in his mind, who opened the door. It was his mother. 

"Kyou!" She exclaimed, as if startled. In reply, he inclined his head her way and slipped off his shoes.

For once, his mother didn't try to fill up this space with chatter. Her expression only sobered, and she nodded gravely nodded in return.

Kyouya could hear his steps, softened by his house shoes, on the marble floor. The_ thum thum thum thum _as he walked steadily down the hall.

So. It was obvious that his father had found out about his cancelled engagement. He had not bothered much to keep it secret. He knew it would come out sometime or another.

The strangest thing was that he didn't feel nervous, not a tiny bit. He knew the consequences when he'd acted. It was a choice he had to endure, or this tedious game would never end. _The best part, _he thought, not managing to restrain a smirk, _is that I've won. He might be angry, I might suffer repercussions, but the truth is that I've called check._

Kyouya didn't hurry and he didn't dawdle. His steps continued their _thump thum thum thump_ pattern, until he paused at the door to Ootori Yoshio's study, turned the knob, and stepped in.

He closed the door behind him.

It took him a moment to adjust. His father liked his study cool and dark, adorned with rich wood and antique volumes. There weren't windows, only a lamp on the desk. It always gave Kyouya a chill, and not just for the fact it was a few degrees colder than the rest of the house.

The first shape he made out was his father, sitting behind his desk.

The second was Haruhi, who blinked innocently up at him.

And that was when his resolve – which, only seconds ago, had been completely stable – started to crack.

What was she doing here? _Why was she here?_ Was this some sick kind of plot on his father's part? It had always been evident, an unsaid rule, that matters on which Ootoris disagreed did not leave the Ootoris' walls. Kyouya's eyes darted, as controlled as possible, to his father, who sat stoically behind his desk. He didn't even smirk at Kyouya's surprise, and Kyouya paled. Hopefully the lighting would cover for him.

Ootori Yoshio's eyes actually had a gleam of fury to them. His hands, clasped on his desk, were going white at the knuckles. This was a step beyond the frigid detachment he'd recently exhibited; it was further than Kyouya had ever seen him go.

"Kyouya."

The name came out dry; spat out like it was on fire. It was otherwise less nuanced than usual, virtually unreadable.

Kyouya's eyes jumped to the only detectable movement - Haruhi, fidgeting. Brown eyes cast down, but only for a moment. They were quick to rise, to meet his. He could read her without words; he saw concern flickering in her brown eyes.

"Sit down."

Kyouya sat.

"Listen to me. And listen well."

Kyouya listened.

"_Do you know why I've ordered you here?"_

Kyouya knew.

But more importantly, he refused to speak. His own anger choked him, his fear muted him. Kyouya didn't think he would not answer - would not be _able _to answer - until Ootori Yoshio explained exactly why Haruhi was there.

"I see you've disobeyed me. You've done exactly as I asked you not to." He gave Kyouya a last chance to speak, presumably to apologize. Kyouya continued to sit motionless, and steel-lipped so as his anger would not spill out in sputters. He would've looked like a statue, if it weren't for a twitch of his eyes that betrayed his true level of composure.

"You cancelled your marriage to Fujioka Haruhi-san," he continued. He didn't so much as acknowledge Haruhi's presence. It was like she was not really there; merely a spectator behind a screen. Meant to watch and be tortured. Or was it Kyouya who was meant to suffer?

"I"m not pleased. But you're not stupid enough to think otherwise. You are also not reckless enough to act without thinking, unless your brains and emotions have been further addled than I believed initially." Poison bit the last words. "My only question now is why?"

_It's a good question, _was the only coherent thought Kyouya could come up with. Flashes went off through his mind. Fuyumi, his father, Osamu, Tamaki, Haruhi. Haruhi a lot. Haruhi was the issue here, obviously. Haruhi _was_ addling his brains, Kyouya would even admit to himself that he couldn't think straight like this.

But did Yoshio think that she was responsible for this? Did he intend to punish her? His father, Kyouya found now, was scariest when he was unpredictable. Unpredictable things were always scary. Not just his father, but this situation. Haruhi was the trick, here, she was what was truly unnerving him.

"Are you done thinking yet?"

The anger in his father's voice still bit at every syllable. Kyouya snapped off that string of thought and tried to focus. For once, concentration was difficult. He would start at the simplest point: the question. _Why._

Things flew out of hand from there. There were so a hundred different aspects, a hundred different answers, a hundred different conclusions. The numbers were out of hand.

And now it was the odds that paralyzed him, the odds that whispered of his failure. The odds that snickered, that said now was the time when all of his previous work and resolve were going to crumble, leaving behind only rubble of his ambitions.

"_Why_?"

Kyouya felt even Haruhi freeze behind him, and all of his thoughts came up blank. His father's hands were never clenched as tightly as they were now; white and warning and lethal. Kyouya did not dare look in his eyes. And the fact that, even in front of a visitor, he would lose his temper so badly...

It was like every moment of silence was some kind of boulder-blanket, crushing the air out of his lungs. He thought he heard, from behind him and to his left, a queasy intake of breath. The fact that Haruhi was so affected created another sharp crack in his determination.

Yoshio's voice rose, the closest Kyouya had ever heard his father come to letting his temper enflame his voice. "_I asked, Kyouya, why-"_

Kyouya heard a quick creak as Haruhi rose from her chair behind him, jumping to his defense. He could imagine her brown eyes, flashing with determination. To defend him. But no, that was not her job. He would not let her. Kyouya was finally spurred into action. He stood, and - in a cut business tone - he finally gave his answer.

"I love her."

The silence then was a stunned one. Even Kyouya, after saying the words, wished he could recall them. He hadn't expected them to slip out. He sensed, more than imagined, Haruhi behind him, starring loose-jawed and wide-eyed. Before him, his father's eyes widened a little, only for him to bend his head and re-adjust his glasses. Eyes out of sight.

"You make no sense," his father stated flatly – and coolly - when he finally found his words again. Flat was really the best way to say it – the only displayed emotion, disapproval, lay behind his lenses.

Kyouya realized that he could indeed not take his words back, and would now have to fight for them. He continued in his curt, business-like tones. "On the contrary. It's not hard to understand. Only three words. I. Love. Her."

The silence now almost rings.

Yoshio lowered his eyes from view again.

"Fujioka Haruhi-san, you may go."

Haruhi stood mechanically, obviously still shocked. But before she left, she gave an inquisitive, almost blank look to Kyouya.

He did not crack a smile or raise his eyebrow. He didn't nod or frown.

His eyes, clouded over with a sudden solemnity, just reached into hers. Looking for anything besides the deadpan that she was known to adapt.

He found awe.

The door clicked shut only a second later, and Kyouya suddenly felt more awkward than before. He had spilled his heart and guts before the person he least wanted to have knowledge of such things – his father.

"You love Fujioka Haruhi."

If there had been windows, Kyouya was half-sure that his father would be standing, thoughtfully looking out one. Or not. Yoshio had never been the type for dramatics that served no purpose. Or for re-stating the obvious. Kyouya could only stand and wait for his father to continue.

Hands shaking slightly, hardly noticeably, Yoshio unclasped his hands and massaged his temples.

"I should have known this would throw a wrench in all of my plans."

Kyouya couldn't help it. His eyes slitted instinctively. Words, more words, slipped from his lips. He had vowed to himself that he would restrain himself, do what his father asked. But that vow was broken the moment he'd seen two figures in the room.

"So this was all part of your plans?"

Yoshio looked at him with something between distaste and surprise. A _who-are-you-and-where-is-Kyouya _look. "You should know that better than anyone. Although by your behavior lately, it seems as though your priorities-"

"My priorities are fine," Kyouya cut in, voice like a knife. He was getting too attached to his business voice, the clipped one. The one who used to use with Haruhi a lot at the beginning, but definately angrier now. The one he'd used with the Newspaper Club who was trying to bring down his best friend, or a Renge who was about to smear the Host Club's reputation. His father, used to his third-son voice, was now visibily taken aback.

Yoshio suddenly looked tired. But his words still came out with their firm authority.

"Kyouya, I don't know what you're doing here, but I think you need to understand-"

"I'm leaving now," Kyouya said, finality merging with his brusque manner of speaking.

"Kyouya, I'm your fa-"

But he closes the door behind him. It shuts, and the heavy wood blocks out the rest of Yoshio's sentence.

He allowed himself to slump against the door, knowing well that Yoshio won't go after what he probably viewed as a lost cause. _I'll be disowned, _he thought. But, Kyouya joked bitterly to himself, that _only _the worst that could happen. He felt a headache. A bad one.

He took in a long, sweet, gulp of air.

"Kyouya?"

He looked to his right. It was Haruhi. His mouth went dry, and he straightened up.

"You - listened to that?"

She shook her head. "No," she told him, her voice a bit raspy, "I only waited. Until you came out."

His headache got worse. He wondered if he had a anxiety-related illness, at which symptoms appeared when he was stressed and/or worried. It would be no wonder. He was a delicate boy, and considering all of the things he'd been pulled through in the last few years of his life, with his father, and Fuyumi, not to mention the stress that Tamaki and...

All thoughts of stress-related illness were cut short when Haruhi pitifully wrapped her arms around Kyouya and buried her face in his chest. It was wordless action, a gesture of sympathy and pity. It made Kyouya freeze and he faintly heard his heartbeat behind the overwhelming sound of her breathes.

After a moment, she gently let go and looked up at him. Feeling a little awkward, probably.

"You're not okay. Do you need some – some water or something?"

He shook his head no.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

He just looked at her for a long moment. She seemed to fidget under his gaze.

"Kyou-"

Now he had wrapped his arms tightly around her, and he held her close. The gesture was more sudden, more passionate than hers had been.

He just stood there like that, clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. She stood, limp in his arms, eyes unwavering. Haruhi was never one to have quick reactions. Still, at his next words, her eyes widened a little.

"No. But thank you, Haruhi."


	15. A Hole in the Plan

a/n: My updates are SO inconsistent. I've been working on this chapter for about a month – no kidding. First, I did the outline. Then, when I started writing, I felt that something was lacking. Sooo… I made a couple of modifications to the plot, to keep it interesting (for you all, but also for myself).

I hope you'll forgive me – I had no inspiration or time to finish this chapter, and decided to release it as is. -- I'm sorry it's a little short and if it seems incomplete, well, think of the next chapter as its second half. Once again, I'm sorry, but I hope you'll all be able to enjoy it nonetheless. : )

* * *

"Just remember that today is a new day." 

He was startled out of his idle reverie by her words. They were spoken matter-of-factly, but somehow they were just what he needed to raise his head, clear his thoughts, and assure her he didn't know what she was talking about.

Haruhi, in reply, only eyed him sadly.

All right, he knew what she was talking about. He knew very well. And while a part of him ached to tell her everything – to pour out these feelings and anxieties – a part of him didn't. He could start fresh today; forget those troubles (such naïveté was unusual for him, but it was all he had to cling to). He didn't want her to know this all-too-intimate side of him – the insecurity. It was unthinkable; he had never shared these things with anyone. Fuyumi, of course, was different – she spoke his thoughts aloud, experienced things that were similar.

He would not tell her. He would not tell anyone, unless…

No. She still had not given him a response to what he had said to his father – and, in effect, to her. Until she… until he knew where she stood, he could not afford to hand her any more of his soul than he already had.

So the drive lasped into a companionable, almost-peaceful quiet.

* * *

"Quite nice of you to serve me, Fujioka-kun." 

Haruhi's eyes scanned the area hopelessly. Her normal customers were staring at her, eyes brimming with tears of pity, but they stuck fearfully to the walls.

Haruhi turned back to her designator before giving Kyouya a nasty look. This proved counterproductive – instead of grinning oh-so-innocently (_not)_, he only continued to stare listlessly at his notebook.

Poor Kyouya.

Turning back to her customer – oh, the dread – she replied, "It's a pleasure, Nekozawa-senpai."

Nekozawa frowned gingerly from under his dark hood.

"You sound sad."

"Eh?" Her head jerked up. "No, not me, why would I-"

A weight fell over her shoulder protectively, and an imperious index finger was swung in Nekozawa's direction.

"_What," _Tamaki began, _"_are _you _doing in _our HOST _club! Y- you're not a lovely lady!"

Haruhi almost snorted. Tamaki might be playing the part of gallant king, but the stutter in his sentence showed that he was more afraid than she.

This was made clear when Nekozawa smiled eerily and Tamaki nearly jumped.

"Why _are _you here today, Nekozawa-senpai?"

"Fujioka-kun, I'll be frank. I need to learn how to seduce women."

Haruhi wondered wryly why he'd chosen, then, to speak with _her, _of all hosts.

Tamaki's reaction was quite different. Recovering a bit of his courage, he frowned and stared down at Nekozawa.

"_Seduce _women? _Seduce? _We do no such thing! To stoop so low as to use our charms for your – _seducing _– never!" His voice grew quite loud by the end of his rant, and now every fangirl's eyes were plastered (with awe, no question) on Tamaki.

"Nekozawa-senpai," Haruhi interrupted, before Tamaki could continue on a topic she was sure he enjoyed quite a lot, "Er… why do you need to… seduce women?"

Nekozawa smiled his evil smile again.

"Fujioka-kun, have you ever heard the tale of Count Dracula? I have recently vacationed to his former dwelling in Transylvania…"

"_So that's why he's hasn't bothered us in so long," _she heard Hikaru murmur audibly from across the room.

"And I have decided that we might have a seminar on his techniques for our club meeting this week… unfortunately, we have no experiences in such things. No need for any of you ladies to worry – we haven't decided to go the Un-Dead route - but he is certainly worth studying. Therefore, as club president, I sacrificed myself to go on the reconnaissance mission."

Haruhi began to feel uncomfortable. Behind her, she could hear the frightened murmurs of girls as they inched closer to the nearest exit. (Contrary to Nekozawa's comment, they most certainly _were _worrying). Customers who'd previously been distracted by other hosts were falling quiet, and casting worried glances her way.

She wondered, did Kyouya even notice? Did he care that profits were being lost? Or was he too far gone?

Maybe she should think about what he'd said…?

But before she could even reconsider that which she'd pushed from her mind, she felt Tamaki's hand on her shoulder freeze. Nekozawa's hand was snaking out of his cloak, ghostly pale and so thin as to be bony. It had a certain grace to it, but even Haruhi's mind had stopped functioning in her fear. Especially when it took hers in its cold grip and stroked it musingly.

"You have very smooth skin, Fujioka-kun," he said matter-of-factly, "like a lamb to the slaughter. Is this something that girls find-"

But before he could finish her sentence, a startled baby-cry had emitted from the back of the room and, simultaneously, she had been lifted into the air by a pair of very strong, very capable hands.

She allowed herself to breath, as Nekozawa looked on in confusion.

"He's not a lamb to the slaughter," Mori told him simply. Haruhi was slightly flattered, somewhat embarrassed, and very surprised. That might have been one of the longest sentences he'd ever said. And what's more, it was on her behalf.

"I-I'm sure he didn't mean it literally, Mori-senpai," she assured nervously. Being in his arms felt a little strange. Yes, she felt safe. She was always safe there. But it didn't feel as deft as it always had. Mori gave her his small, true smile, and she automatically felt better. Mori was her friend, for always. And he was certainly one of the more sane ones.

Tamaki stared on in shock, his hand still unmoved from where it had been on Haruhi's shoulder. The only difference was that his eyes were growing angrier and angrier. As Mori gently placed Haruhi down, Tamaki finally exploded into rage.

"_That's enough! _You will not defile our reputation with your presence! You will not harass our members in such a manner! _You will not come back!_" Trembling, he pointed stiffly to the door.

Haruhi looked over at Kyouya, who's eyes seemed to be focusing somewhat.

"Oh, yes," he said, as though he'd been asleep and had just woken up (though for Kyouya that would also have included an aura of evil), "Yes, best to get him out of her. Mori-senpai, if you please?"

Mori nodded and pulled a tiny flashlight from out of his pocket. (The kendo motto was to be prepared.) Nekozawa, though, was already backing toward the door – and Mori's threatening grip on the switch only served to quicken this.

The girls breathed out a collective sigh of relief. The hosts breathed with them; Tamaki's being the loudest.

Before Haruhi's tension had completely dissipated, she felt a slight tug on her sleeve. She turned to a girl with smooth brown hair and eyes that looked, upon closer examination, dark blue. Half-foreign, then.

"Um," she began unsurely, "Are you all right, Haruhi-kun?"

Haruhi nodded, wondering who this girl was. She was not one of her designators, but she certainly looked familiar.

"Yes… and who are you?"

The girl blinked. "You don't know me?"

_Rich bastards. They think everyone knows who they are…_

The girl shook her head. "No, no, of course, you're only a commoner." She smiled sweetly, a stark contrast to her insensitive words. She probably didn't even understand what they implied.

_Eh?_

Her face grew concerned. "Haruhi-kun, I was just wondering. About you and Kyouya-sama. You're not…" she flushed a light pink, but maintained an even expression. "You're not… dating, are you?"

Haruhi blinked once, wondering what had gotten out. For a moment, she blamed Renge. Then, she recalled the amount of time she had been spending with Kyouya lately. _It's a grounded enough thought, _she reasoned to herself, _the reason she's so embarrassed and disappointed is probably because she thinks Kyouya is gay. _

"No," she said simply a second later.

The girl let out a sigh of relief, and the pink left her cheeks with her breathe.

"That's good to know," she said happily, "Or else there could be problems, you know, with his reputation and… mine… what with…" She bit her lip a little, but this time instead of blushing her lips tugged into a small, giddy smile.

"Eh?"

"Oh, of course! No one knows yet."

"Wha-?"

"Oh, of course, you want to know. I _suppose _I can tell you. No, I know I can trust you to keep a secret, Haruhi-kun."

Haruhi, known far and wide as a natural type, certainly could. Not that she _wanted _to know whatever this secret was. She didn't. This girl, though, seemed to think that Haruhi _should_, and _did. _

The brunette bent, so that Haruhi could feel the girl's breath on her ear. Her hair curtained down and brushed Haruhi's cheek.

When her whisper came, it was soft and excited.

"_He and I are getting married!"_

* * *

"Have you seen Haruhi? I have no idea what's wrong with her! My poor Haruhi! She's been acting absent-mindedly all day." Tamaki plopped down on Kyouya's sofa. "Like you." 

Kyouya glared at his unceremonious descent – and at this unwelcome news. "I don't believe you. Haruhi doesn't get ruffled by anything. Now, be quiet so I can do some of this homework in peace. Not all of us are idiot-geniuses."

Tamaki just continued to peer at him. "You _had _to have noticed." He paused thoughtfully. "I don't think it was Nekozawa, although poor Haruhi would have every right to be scared of that… that… _ugh_…"

"Tamaki," Kyouya interrupted suddenly, although his eyes never left the paper he was gazing at, "have you noticed that you no longer refer to Haruhi as your daughter?"

There was quiet. When Kyouya looked up, he was surprised to see that Tamaki looked thoughtful more than anything.

"I have," Tamaki defended musingly after a bit.

"Only in French," Kyouya countered.

"But we're still a family," Tamaki told him with certainty, "Just a different kind now."

Kyouya, despite himself and all his worries, smiled.

"An incestual one."

Tamaki's eyes bugged out at the suggestion. "No, of course not! I don't mean that at all!"

"You do, a little bit. You, the twins, me. We all have feelings for Haruhi more than friendship… probably more than a mere crush."

"Don't forget Mori," Tamaki pointed out quietly, "And maybe even Hunny, although I don't think that's likely."

Kyouya was startled. He'd hardly considered those possibilities, and had even less considered Tamaki uncovering them as truth. But he forced himself to take it in stride.

"You and I are on good terms, _mon ami,"_ Tamaki continued, staring blankly at the ceiling; so wise and calm as to not be Tamaki anymore, "Hunny and Mori have principles, ones that wouldn't let them split over that. And, as I said, I doubt Hunny has any romantic intentions toward Haruhi." He frowned. "But the twins. Ah."

"They're brothers aren't they?" Kyouya frowned, too.

"Yes, but that's the problem. They're so close. Such a rift is more than they've ever endured or even dreaded. With us, there is some distance. With them, there is none."

His insight was almost getting creepy.

"So we're fine now?"

Tamaki nodded. "Yes. I think… I think Haruhi's choice – should she make one – is more important than whatever we might want. And our family. I won't stop you or anyone else, as long as we can all stay that way."

"This is all," he added hurriedly, a tomato-red blush creeping up his face, "assuming that you were right in your assumptions of my intentions toward _ma fille._"

Tamaki stayed for dinner that night. His presence was so much like Fuyumi's – his laughter rang and filled the room, and even his mother was smiling that night.

"Where's Father?" Kyouya asked, daring to disturb the atmosphere with the question.

Surprisingly, his mother did not shrink from the challenge. She paused for a moment, and then replied, "Oh, he's been busy."

Kyouya was suspicious. And curious as to his father's feelings and thoughts, and… well, let's be honest: more than either of those, he wanted to know exactly what his father was busy with; what was up his sleeve.

Tamaki left with a buoyant goodbye and much waving, but Kyouya felt more sobered than ever.


	16. In the Dark

a/n: 11/6/07: An update! And a rather good one, too, if I do say so myself. Very full of drama, although I digress a bit at the beginning. And the end feels choppy, but I knew that'd be a difficult scene to write. At any rate, please enjoy and review. (Reviews. You know how I love them.) ;)

* * *

Kyouya was always one for pacing. 

He'd thought, when he was young and foolish (eleven), that pacing looked very mature. Now he knew that fidgeting of any sort was a disgrace, but pacing felt like the right thing to do. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when you were waiting for something?

He'd finished all of his homework for the weekend and re-read ahead in all of his textbooks. He'd finished any long-term projects, even one he and Tamaki had been doing that Tamaki had hardly had time to contribute to. He had checked to see how his stocks were doing and done some management there. He'd even re-analyzed the club funds and made notes of how to improve their profits.

Most of this would be normal behavior, but he was doing it to excess. The truth was, he was worried.

Why didn't Haruhi call him back?

Tamaki had said there'd been something wrong. What could possibly be troubling her? On Saturday, the last day of school for the week, she'd seemed distant somehow. Although her sensibility didn't seem to waver, there was something _off. _

He stopped in his tracks.

Did it have something to do with his father?

Quickly, he drew his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number with rapid-fire accuracy.

"Tachibana?"

"Yes, Kyouya-sama?"

"I know that my father is away on another business trip and cannot be bothered, but can you please bother him anyway?"

The sarcastic tone made Tachibana hesitate. "And what message should I relay, sir?"

Kyouya debated whether or not Tachibana needed to keep his job. Deciding that Tachibana had been a faithful and generally satisfactory attendant, Kyouya chose to soften the blow that his messenger would receive.

"Tell him to call me. It has to do with my cancelled engagement."

* * *

And now, Haruhi decided as she blankly examined cabbage, the she knew what Kyouya felt like. 

It was not sensible to feel like this. How could Kyouya stand it? Assuming, she added hastily, that he really did feel this way and that her symptoms right now were of something bigger than a mere fever.

She'd think of Kyouya and feel bright and high, but then she'd think of him married to the unknown customer. It made her feel queasy and unsure.

_Was_ this how he felt about her?

What was going on?

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around quickly, somehow (_illogically) _half-expecting it to be him. It was a woman, probably in her late twenties.

"Oh… I just wanted to get to the cabbage."

Haruhi finally registered this and shifted to the side. The woman glanced over her shoulder at Haruhi, almost as if sensing she was thinking about something important. Haruhi shuffled down to the carrots.

Stew. Stew. Hmm. Suddenly, she had forgotten how to make stew.

_Rich bastard. Making her forgot how to cook stew. _

This was getting annoying.

She picked up the carrot and surveyed it. It was a bright, crisp orange color. It looked like it would make a nice stew.

It was too bright.

What had that girl meant? What was her _name, _even? (Haruhi felt stupid for not asking. It would be too conspicuous now to mention something.) Had she been lying?

Haruhi put down the carrot, because it was too warm for stew and her thoughts were too jumbled. There would be something simple and quick for dinner, tonight.

"Haruhi!" a voice chimed. She gave a start, and he raised his eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack." Then, without missing a beat: "Why are you here? And where's Hikaru?"

Despite the heart attack he had nearly given her, she had automatically noticed the sad lack of harmony in his greeting. There was no lower voice to join Kaoru's.

"Why so nervous?" he asked conversationally. If Hikaru had been here, the two would have sidled up, familiarly snaked their arms around her neck, and leaned in so the words would have been warm breath on her cheek. But because it was only Kaoru and not Hikaru and Kaoru, he just took her bag politely and followed her lead, walking to the frozen foods aisle instead.

"I'm not nervous," she replied. She didn't sound nervous – her voice was perfectly even. And her attitude, Kaoru noticed, had picked up since he shouted for her. Only moments before, she'd looked like only looked like a tired shell of herself.

But she had given herself away by answering just a _little _too quickly.

Kaoru immediately set himself up to (casually) pounce, but – again, a _little _too quickly – she spoke.

"Why are you here?" she repeated.

He frowned. There was no way he was going to tell her everything, so he settled for a little.

"Nothing. Just felt restless at home."

"Where's Hikaru?"

Hesitation, for just a _little _too long. "The reason I'm restless," he confessed in a monotone.

Haruhi had her back turned to him, so he couldn't see her expression. He did, however, see the way her hand stopped in mid-reach for the box of noodles, the way her body seemed to tense. When she turned around, she looked mildly curious but otherwise unperturbed.

"Could you get this box for me? It's just a little too high."

Kaoru silently obliged, heart pounding, relieved that he could tell her the truth without her questioning him further.

She gave a faint smile and he smiled back, tension flowing out.

"This should be all."

"Can I come over?"

It came out before he could stop it, and then he felt foolish – and like a traitor. To invite himself over was one thing, to invite himself over without his twin was a crime. To be alone with Haruhi was something that his conscience could hardly stand. But it was a sin he seemed to be begging for.

She looked down at her bag of soon-to-be purchases, then back at him.

"I can carry those for you, Haruhi."

Why did words keep slipping out?

She sighed deeply. "Fine."

They walked home quietly, wordlessly, in the dusk, and Kaoru felt more and more foolish for asking this from her. He had asked too much of her. He had asked too much of her simply by telling her how he felt.

_"I care about you-" _

_Her hand in his, big eyes looking up at him. They cloud over, and he knows that she doesn't like what she's seeing. He knows that she's going to see it through that fog._

_She doesn't really understand. _

"Haruhi."

She stopped fumbling for her key to look up.

"Haruhi, I… Don't worry about me. Or what I say."

She looked at him oddly. "Okay…"

The moment of nervous silence was broken with a creak and the opening of Haruhi's apartment door.

"Haruhi?" Then: "Kaoru?"

"Kyouya?"

Kaoru thought grimly that she should have been more surprised by Kyouya's unexpected presence in her home.

"Haruhi, it's very cramped in here and I'd appreciate if you could advise me on the best position in which to sit."

Kaoru's eyes flicked over to Haruhi, and he felt his guts flip unpleasantly when he noticed her expression wasn't quite as nonchalant as one would expect from her tone. But she quickly narrowed her eyes and mumbled something that sounded like _helpless rich bastards._

As she trudged past Kyouya in the doorway, bumping him a little, Kaoru also noticed the way Kyouya's lips twitched up into a grin. He was _baiting _her. _Teasing. _

Kaoru had the even more unpleasant feeling that he didn't want to be there at that moment, but nonetheless followed Haruhi through the doorway.

Haruhi had already busied herself making tea. "Kyouya," she called stonily, "the best way to sit is _normally. _There's no need for anything elaborate."

"Like Tono's copyrighted space-saving squat."

"I resent that," came a regal sniff.

Outwardly, Kaoru smiled wryly at this new development.

Kyouya, on the other hand, took a deep breath. He was just about ready to ban his head into something.

"Haruhi said my squat was superfluous only to make you feel more comfortable. You should stop tromping all over poor Haruhi's goodwill and make yourselves scarce."

"Maybe you should make _yourself _scarce, Tono," Kaoru said dryly.

Haruhi's head popped out from the miniscule kitchen. "Tamaki… senpai…?"

"Haruhi! Tell these inconsiderate uncouth the _correct _way to position themselves in a commoner hole – _home! _Home, Haruhi, I said home!"

Haruhi fixed him with a withering stare. "They can sit the _normal _way. You're welcome to make yourself comfortable in the corner."

Tamaki wasted no time in doing so.

"Just don't cultivate mushrooms in my closet, Tamaki-senpai!" she called from the kitchen.

Tamaki plunged into an even deeper hole of misery.

Kyouya, at this point, had resigned himself to the idea that he would not get the opportunity to tell Haruhi his purpose for coming.

Which was to tell her. Again. That he loved her.

And to get an answer.

It wasn't that he didn't like Kaoru or Tamaki – on any other day, this would have been a very entertaining situation. But today?_ Today_, of all days?

He felt his temper flaring up.

And the flames were only fed when there was another loud knock at the door.

"We brought cake!"

Hunny. Mori. And…?

Hikaru?

Who had organized the entire host club to come to Haruhi's home _on this very day?_

Whoever it was, their head was going to roll. This was no coincidence. Or maybe it was, but Kyouya didn't like to consider that option, as Lady Luck's head would be a little more difficult to obtain.

Kyouya let his eyes slide across the room, at the assortment of hosts that Haruhi had no idea what to do with. Hunny, munching happily. Mori, unreadable as ever. Tamaki, calling to Haruhi pitifully from the corner.

Kaoru, staring at the wall.

Hikaru, staring at the carpet.

Sitting quite a distance from each other.

Kyouya narrowed his eyes a bit in thought. Perhaps Tamaki had come here purely on a whim. It was not out of bounds to think that Tamaki might visit Haruhi often (and randomly). Kaoru had come home with her (he still wondered why, with a nagging feeling that was beyond curious), so surely chance was responsible for his presence, as well, though he had probably counted on bumping into Haruhi.

Hikaru, now. Hikaru and Hunny and Mori.

Why had the two seniors brought the other twin here? The twins weren't getting along. It was common, unspoken knowledge. The fangirls were beginning to suspect something. Tamaki, and now the twins? What if Haruhi's identity slipped out more than it already had? Even Renge was a risk!

He tried to calm the fierce feeling of protection that had risen. He didn't like them taking chances, that was all. Kyouya was tailored for calculation, and not risk.

Hunny was munching on cake, happy as can be, chattering about something. Surely, the senior was waiting for his plan to unfold – for Hikaru and Kaoru to confront, to confront each other and themselves and their feelings.

"Everyone. Leave."

Kyouya's voice interrupted Hunny. Who looked up innocently, cake still on the sides of his mouth. But no one else seemed to hear.

"_Everyone. Leave."_

"Are _you_ leaving?"

It was Hikaru. Hikaru, who let sarcasm and anger take over his words and thoughts.

"No. I want you all to leave. Haruhi's home is not the place to settle any of your disputes, and I want you all gone."

"Kyouya!" Tamaki wailed, "You can't keep Haruhi all to yourself!"  
_That's the problem, _he thought,_ if I do, there won't be enough of her left to satisfy them._

And yet, every one of them was selfish. They wished to take her. And, then again, they were all selfless. They'd kept the façade up, so that everyone could be happy.

Now, no one was.

Everyone else completely ignored Tamaki, and chatter broke out.

"Hika-chan-"  
"Please, everyone, my neighbors-!"

"Kyooooouyaaa!"  
"Enough!"

"Kyouya-" finally, a cut through the chaos, Hikaru, with a voice like a razor – "what do you mean? Our 'disputes'?"

"I mean that there are obviously problems among us. And that Haruhi's house is not the place to settle them."

There was quiet. Hunny nervously took a bite of cake.

"Leave."

The twins looked at each other. Tamaki turned away, and Kyouya was very, very afraid – for a brief moment – that Tamaki was going to cry. But he only sniffed once and then held his head high and haughty. "_Au revior, _Haruhi," he said, bowing briefly.

Hunny stood up, abandoning his cake. "Takashi, let's go." It was the first time Kyouya had ever heard Hunny sound less than happy or moe-moe sad. He sounded _unsure._

The twins took the longest. They looked at each other for a long time, then Kaoru whispered:

"How much do you love her?"

Hikaru turned away with a jerk, and he walked quickly out the door. Kaoru followed slowly, with one wane smile to Haruhi before shutting the door.

The two remaining stood in silence.

"Kyouya?"

"I'm…" _sorry, _he wanted to say, but really, how was any of this his fault?

It wasn't, not directly anyway.

* * *

Two pots of tea (drunk to fill the nervous, awkward silence) later, Kyouya and Haruhi had covered every piece of small talk they could. Weather (it was nice, although still a bit chilly for spring), school (Haruhi was still at the top of her class, wasn't she?), and how Kyouya got his key into her house (Ranka, of course, had willingly provided it).

Outside, he could faintly hear the evening traffic and even more faintly the hum of spring's bugs.

Haruhi gave a deep sigh and plopped down on a cushion. He followed suit. It was strange, now, in the night, in the near-silence, to be sitting across a table from Haruhi and listening to the click of her kitchen timer.

It was stranger still, because he anticipated they were about to have a talk. A real one, one that wouldn't be full of awkwardness and skimming over what had to be addressed.

"Haruhi, you know why I came here. Don't you."

A slight nod, but he couldn't detect pain in her face, her eyes, or in her foot's fidget.

"Well?"

She stood up abruptly. She walked away with certain intensity and plopped down again, this time in the middle of the room.

He felt a little silly doing so, but nonetheless settled himself down next to her, cross-legged.

"What is it?"

She nodded blindly at the picture on the carefully laid table, her mother.

"What about her?"

A beautiful woman - she looked so sure, so confident. He reached out and felt for Haruhi's hand. She took it, her grip loose and light and unwilling but still there. She continued to stare at the picture, while a fog moved behind her eyes - as though she were blind, her thoughts locked inside of her. She couldn't see out, and he couldn't see in.

"She married for love," Haruhi replied. "And that's why...

Long pause.

"It's why I couldn't marry you. Would never consider marrying you."

Crack.

Right there.

On the left side of his chest.

But it should have hurt more, he thought, and then:

She can't mean it.

Not completely.

Finally looking in his direction, she frowned, and tried to explain what she'd said. It was the closest she'd ever come to begging forgiveness for a clumsy mistake, he thought. "It's not like – not like I-"

He kissed her.

He kissed her because he was pathetic and it was some kind of strange last-ditch attempt. Seduction; that was a sort of skill, a technique, something that required precision and knowledge. He was a host, he could pull it off.

(_His lips on hers. Hers were harder than he thought they'd be, actually, but maybe that was because he was pressing too hard. Maybe it was because his were made of stone.)_

The strange thing was, that it wasn't that. Not really.

It was because he didn't believe her. Maybe it wasn't love that she felt for him. But it was far from hate or even dislike. It was some kind of strange trust (_I trust you, Kyouya-senpai), _called friendship.

And if he was right about the way his arms had wrapped around her that day – the way their lips had almost met in the car – the way she spoke his name, now, with something bordering on emotion (so strange, for Haruhi, to utter a name with any sort of affinity)…

Then, she loved him.

Perhaps.

Was that what it meant, when he pressed his lips against hers and leaned over her? Was this the feeling that he'd always dismissed, as something from fairytales or shoujo manga; a tool used to take a girl's heart by force? It was more. This was the feeling of being swept up and out of yourself and to a whole new place. Of losing your breath and loving the way it made your heart beat faster.

It must have been an entire minute – in the dark, in the silence, with his heart beating loud and blocking out the sound of the kitchen timer ticking– when she pulled away slightly and the timer ran out.

It started beeping.

"The tea!" she cried, and he noticed that she her face was red and she was breathing heavy and hurrying too quickly.

He waited quietly.

He heard a slight clatter as she placed two teacups on the table.

"I know it's a little warm," she mumbled, still staring at her toes, "but I wasn't thinking when I suggested it."

"Warm is fine," he said diplomatically.

"Kyouya, you know-"

"I suppose I was out of line, Haruhi, but I thought-"

"-You're getting married."

"-that-Excuse me?"

"You're getting married. To a girl, with blue eyes, one of our customers, a girl who really seems to have… a crush on you."

There was silence.

Kyouya only just managed to place his teacup carefully on the table. He might well have dropped it, with the dizziness that had overtaken him.

He wanted to speak, but he couldn't, and Haruhi seemed equally incapable.

_No, _he wanted to say, _that can't be right. _

Just then, his phone rang.

He knew it was his father, and he knew that his father would only repeat what Haruhi had said. But with far less regret.


	17. Who Loves Him

Ch 17- 12/31/07: Happy New Year's Eve/New Year's Day!

It's been more than a month. I'm sorry for the late chapter! I should really count myself lucky to have so many people reviewing, even after the long breaks… So thank you, everyone! I apologize too for how short this chapter is - and for the cliffhanger ending. All will be tied up soon, so you can look forward to that.

(Second to last chapter, but with the tantalizing prospect of an epilogue…)

* * *

"I really am looking forward to it… I mean, I've still got a few years - six years - but Papa said I could start spending time with him in a couple months, once everything is smoothed out. Haruhi-kun, can you believe it?!" 

Springfield, Gina. Gina Springfield. Daughter of the British ambassador.

Kyouya's….

Haruhi let the thought slide, only to focus on another:

_How was she supposed to measure up?_

There was an uncomfortable pause as Gina shifted (more like fidgeted) in her chair. It seemed that she'd finally realized that Haruhi had been looking at her with dull, unblinking eyes for most of the past ten minutes. The smile that Haruhi had pasted on (so unusual, for the natural, to have to 'paste' anything) had long worn thin. And behind it lay Haruhi, currently the very definition of 'battered'.

"Haruhi-kun? Is something bothering you?" It was Renge, now. Hoshakuji Renge, Haruhi's second customer, who sat between her and Gina at the small round table.

"Maybe Haruhi-kun is sick?" Gina's voice eased out of the sugar-sweet tones and into something concerned.

"It's nothing," Haruhi mumbled.The only thing she was _sick _of was Gina going on and on and on about her engagement to Kyouya.

It was starting to get annoying.

"Oh," Gina replied, sounding considerably more chipper, "that's good, then." And the fake-sugar voice was back.

She smiled widely, but Haruhi suspected that Gina was testing her, seeing if she would react. Which was odd. After all, Haruhi had already _told _Gina that she wished her nothing but well in her engagement, that she and Kyouya were not lovers, that Kyouya was not gay, that…

_Wait… did being kissed somehow make her Kyouya's…?_

Renge cast a hopeful, pleading glance at Haruhi, which the latter hardly registered.

Gina blushed slightly, in a maidenly manner, and stared down at her unusually perfect nails. Haruhi despaired, for just _one, fleeting_ moment, that her own nails were short and practical.

"Haruhi-kun, you're the most sensitive one here. Other than Tamaki-sama, maybe." She paused, bitting her lower lip coquettishly and allowing the blush to rise. "You'll understand how happy I am about this engagement."

The image was complete. She looked like an angel, for a second, when she brought her hands up and crossed them daintily over her heart. Her eyes were eased shut, a smile gracing her lips.

_(Angel? No.)_

And that, _that,_ was the moment that Haruhi snapped.

"Are you sure?"

Gina looked up, stunned that Haruhi-kun could use such terse poison. His head was down, but his stiff movements were ominous.

"Um… Haruhi-kun… excuse me?"

Confronted with such uncharacteristic behavior, Gina could only stumble for words and come up with something only resembling her usual tone. Renge, who had been bizarrely quiet until now, suddenly leaned forward in her seat.

Haruhi specified, in a tone clear and sharp as bells:

"Are you sure you love him?

Gina's mouth dropped. Despite the chatter and giggles around them she could only feel the chill of Haruhi's words.

"Wh-What do you _mean, _Haruhi-kun?" Her tone was half puzzled caution, and a touch of desperate whine. "Of course I love him."

"I mean-" and here, Haruhi's head jerked up, and the hard look in her big eyes (_such an impossible picture_) made Gina recoil just the slightest bit – "Do you really love him."

There was no answer.

"Because there might be someone out there who – who really loves him. Who loves Kyouya – Kyouya-senpai – for who he really is. And do you really think that it's right or fair to tear him from that person?"

For a moment, Haruhi regretted her words, because it looked as though Gina was about to cry.

"Haruhi-kun…"

The fake-sugar was lost. There was no sob in her voice, but it was whisper-quiet, and was drowned out by the pleasant buzz around them, the buzz that seemed to have little relation to the words they were exchanging.

"You _don't_ love him."

One teardrop dribbled down Gina's cheek and made a tiny wet mark on her napkin. Haruhi's words were apparently too well chosen.

"_H-_Haruhi-kun..."

Haruhi had no idea what to say next. Her rage seemed to be burning out, and her eyes were focusing back on the girl in front of her. She sat there awkwardly as Gina dissolved into sobs, and whispers started flying around the room.

_Why is that girl crying?_

_What did Haruhi-kun say?_

_There no way that Haruhi-kun would reject her so cruelly! It must be her fault!_

_Doesn't Gina-chan love Kyouya-sama? Why would she give a love confession to Haruhi-kun? Is it a love confession? It must be, right?_

With some trepidation, she saw Kyouya making his way over, to see what was wrong. It was his job to remedy it, wasn't it? She suddenly felt nervous. What would he say about this? Would he think the wrong thing? Because it wasn't as if…

Oh, God.

She'd been talking about herself, hadn't she?

Haruhi found herself sweating – she felt the slick on her hands as she grasped her tea cup and the bump of her heart in her chest as he came closer, and closer…

But she didn't have to find out what would have happened next, because Renge finally found her wits.

"Gina-chan," she whispered cautiously, "Gina-chan?" And here she put an arm on one of Gina's, although Gina only continued to cry, refused to take her face out of her hands.

When Gina didn't answer, Renge lugged her to her feet and dragged her out of the room. Haruhi watched the two exit the room, whispers still around and some girls trying to get back to talking to their hosts after the display. Haruhi heard a faint sound – Tamaki, trying to get out of his seat to see what the poor girl's problem was. His designators, however, seemed less enthusiastic at the idea.

She jumped a little in her seat when she felt a tap on her shoulder: Kyouya.

"Did you just upset her?"

He sounded bored, the words were in their usual crisp punctures, but there was concern in them, too. And none of that concern, Haruhi could tell, was for her designator.

Haruhi stared down into her teacup, hopefully looking guiltless. "She only upset herself, I think."

It was no lie. Had her feelings been true, would Gina really have crumbled so easily?

Kyouya nodded, and his grip on her shoulder tightened reassuringly for just a moment. He let go and stared down at his clipboard, as though he'd just done something that wasn't appropriate to the situation. Haruhi thought that he was going to leave, but then, suddenly, he said:

"You were talking to Gina-san?"

"Yes."

"My… fiancée."

"Yes. I know that now. She introduced herself and came to my table… I don't know why she requested me…"

He paused. His next words were the kind of unexpected-she-should-have-expected, and they made her skin prickle.

"She was jealous."

Haruhi swallows, but hopefully he doesn't notice that, either.

"She thinks I'm a boy!"

"Boy, girl, it doesn't matter. She really… perhaps not loves me. But close. Some variation. Some kind of infatuation, idolatry, perhaps."

"It's not the real thing," Haruhi pointed out as mildly as she could. She was so caught up in her own whirring thoughts that she had no time to narrow her eyes at his arrogance.

Or perhaps that was because it wasn't arrogance. It was the truth.

Kyouya gratified her with a small, almost bitter smile. "No, it's not," he said, and he left her with an empty table that was soon filled with new girls and new, empty chatter.

It was when she was sipping a cup of tea, smile pasted back on, nodding to something that Momoko-chan was saying, that hit her in full force:

Kyouya was going to marry a girl whom he didn't love.

* * *

Kyouya, on the other hand, had decided he was going to do something about it. 

Days and days – days that stretched into shadows that were years – had been spent agonizing over his engagement to Haruhi. How he would tell his father that he was going to break his obedience. How he would cancel the engagement.

But this time, now that his entire master plan had been crushed, he was ready to take action quickly. There was no time for him to anaylyze and figure, as was his forte.

He would speak to his father.

The matter was imperative.

* * *

That evening, Kyouya marched into his father's office and tacitly demanded an audience. 

His father did not look up, but only put down his pen.

"I see you're home from your business trip, Father."

"Obviously."

And he cut to the point.

"Why have you engaged me to Gina Springfield?"

His father looked up.

"Why?" It seemed for a second that he was going to laugh, in a way that would've scared Kyouya more than any stern glare. But, of course, he didn't. "You dare to ask me that?"

Kyouya didn't answer.

"You cancelled your engagement to Fujioka-san. Isn't that enough? Are you going to tell me which girls you will accept as wives and which not?" There was some bitterness, some sarcasm, in the question.

"Yes."

And his father very, very slowly, met his eyes.

"You make me the criminal, Kyouya, when what I try to do is for your own good."

Kyouya thought before replying, but his reply was sound:

"I will repeat my actions. I will cancel the engagement through my own channels, if I have to."

"Then why not do it? It doesn't seem that you need my approval to do anything anymore."

"I wanted to ask you why."

"Why."

"Why you did this. Why you would engage me to a poor girl from a common family, then turn me around and engage me to a British diplomat's daughter. Both were not as prudent a choice as I'd expect for a wife. Even if I am a third son."

His father looked back down at his paper, stared at it for a moment, then signed it.

Then he looked back up at Kyouya.

"There's no need to cancel your engagement with Springfield-san. The Springfields have broken the engagement off."

Kyouya tried not to betray his surprise, especially now that his father's eyes are trained so solemnly on him.

_Why?_

But that is a different why, for a different time.

"Why," he managed, and it's a reminder of his question. A reminder that he will not be led off his path.

Yoshio seemed to freeze, unblinking but with a thoughtful look deep under his lenses, under his eyes. Dark eyes, steely gray like Kyouya's.

And he nodded.

"You're owed an explanation."


	18. Love

a/n: 1/16/08: OMG. This is it.

It's kind of weird to come to the end of this, because it really was a huge deal to me. Wow. That sounds nerdy when I type it out like that. Haha.

No matter what, I thank all of you who left reviews. I thank you a hundred times over!!! xD You really pressed me to finish this and to do my best.

By the way, I will definitely be doing an epilogue, but it's nice to think that now there's no hurry. ;D (And that I wrapped up _Complicated_ in a way that really satisfies me.) Therefore, this fic will be set as 'complete' but will probably be updated at some point. In a week, in a month, in six months... who knows? o.o

Review. And enjoy. : )

* * *

Kyouya waited expectantly, and his father looked down at his hands. 

Yoshio's eyes were voids. A wall of quiet, the glint of his father's lenses, and the bow of his head prevented Kyouya from seeing the look in Yoshio's there, but he probably wouldn't have seen anything, anyway.

He could see nothing, could not calculate his father's next move.

The odd thing was, he could _feel. _He could feel his father weariness, how very tired he was. And Kyouya could feel something shake and give way, because this was how he felt, too. And it reminded him – like a gentle, painful punch in the gut – that he was very much like his father in so many ways. Perhaps not all of them negative.

This was it, Kyouya realized, as his father opened his mouth to speak.

Quite literally, this was the moment of truth.

"I knew from Fuyumi that you loved her."

It was almost the oddest way Kyouya could have envisioned the topic opening. It was almost sentimental, with a certain softness in his father's voice that Kyouya had never heard.

"She came to me that night, what would have appeared to be a normal school day. She said you were lying on a couch in your room, sick over a girl rejecting you."

Kyouya pursed his lips and forced down an embarrassed flush. That Fuyumi found him so pathetic that she would go behind his back to tell his father, straight up, that Kyouya was lovesick; more than anything that his father knew this at all. Business was business, Father was Father, the Host Club and Haruhi his private salvations.

"She's an extraordinary girl," Yoshio prodded his son.

Gently.

"It had nothing to do with being _convenient?_"

"What do you mean by that?"

"You didn't have us engaged simply because Fuyumi mentioned this to you and you realized she was the same girl Suoh was after for _his _son?"  
Yoshio paused, pushed up his glasses, and regained his aloofness for a moment.

"Excuse me?"

"Suoh. He wanted Haruhi to marry his son."

"No."

The straight answer should have put Kyouya at ease, but instead he felt like he had been pushed even closer to the edge of his nerves. It was not because he didn't know the answer. He knew the answer. But it was _too absurd, too ridiculous, too improbable…_

"Kyouya," his father told him, in a voice soft but toneless, "I'm your father. I am your father, and as such I… I want the best for you."

_Too absurd, too ridiculous, too improbable…_

"I wanted you to marry her because you loved her, Kyouya; gave her more time of day and interest and concern than you'd ever seemed to give any other girl, any other _person, _save Tamaki, and perhaps your sister."

It couldn't be.

His father had done it because he _loved _him.

Kyouya struggled to absorb this.

It was an image of his father that Kyouya was not accustomed to. Gentle and loving? Not his father. Never. Careful, yes. Cruel, no. Did he care about his sons? Of course. They were cagey and industrious; sons to be proud of.

But Kyouya had never seen his father's care for his children as _love. _Love in the paternal, uncalculated, selfless sense. Those were words that did not describe his father, didn't describe the complicated relationship his father shared with his children.

"Few people know you. I don't understand you. You're my son, but I am probably the one who knows you least."

"It's true," Kyouya whispered out, but it really came out louder and calmer than it sounded in his head.

"I realize that. I have never deluded myself, Kyouya."

"That's… wise."

There was an awkward pause in conversation to match Kyouya's awkward answer.

"You're a third son. I was an only child. It might not seem like I sympathize, but I think being at the greatest disadvantage makes for the most admirable challenge."

Kyouya's eyes flicked up quickly, then flicked back down.

"I agree."

There was another quiet, not awkward.

"I made the arrangements for you two in three hours. I took care of all the papers, her father, and sketched out plans for your future together."

Kyouya had never known his father to be so hasty. Still, the mention of the arrangement irritated him, made his fists tighten again with the memory of all the trouble it had put him through.

"It wasn't right. You forced it on Haruhi. You know that."

"It was perfectly legal. Her father agreed to it," Yoshio replied airily, breezing past any accusations of wrongdoing (a manner Kyouya had learned well). He grew more solemn. "Arranged and businesslike is the best way to carry out most aspects of life, Kyouya."

"I disagree," Kyouya replied dryly. His father went on.

"The Springfield engagement was in hopes of creating some jealousy. Or at least some regret. As I understood, the daughter was enamored with you – an easy agreement to make, considering that her parents dote on her, and, of course, the prestige of the Ootori name." His eyes light a little, as if remembering a joke. "To my great surprise, I was spared the embarrassment I was prepared for. Gina Springfield herself came to me to cancel the engagement." A sly smile, a rarity, formed on his lips. "What good luck.You'll have to thank Fujioka-san for me."

Kyouya only vaguely grasped what his father meant.

Then it hit him.

But it couldn't be _Haruhi – _Haruhi, who had said she didn't love him – who'd driven Gina away.

Was he wrong?

Was she…

Was Haruhi wrong about herself?

He stood with inelegant quickness. "Excuse me," he told (apologized to) his father, and he scurried to the door with the same kind of inelegance.

Could she… ?

Really…?

She really did…

_Love me. _

"Kyouya."

Kyouya turned, his hand already on the doorknob, heart already pounding in his chest.

Yoshio wasn't smiling opening now, but the bright traces of one lingered on his face.

Kyouya allowed himself a moment of calm, objective thought.

"Thank you," he said, and with a last business-like nod he walked out of his father's office.

* * *

It took him ten minutes to stop his heart pounding. 

It took him two more to pick up the phone and finally fumble for her number.

It took thirty seconds of ringing for her to pick up.

It took five for her to say hello.

It took ten before he'd said hello back.

Five more minutes before he specified that he wanted to meet her, where he wanted to meet her, implied that it was urgent, and hung up quickly.

It took another agonizing fifteen minutes to get to his destination.

And it took two minutes, when he saw her sitting on the swing, to reach her, in strides cool and unaffected and nothing like his thoughts at that moment.

"You came," she said, looking up and blinking. Stating the obvious.

Now that he could properly hear her voice, time had ceased to be terribly important.

She'd been swinging slightly, just a bit, like a bored child. There was something nervous about it, and he couldn't tell whether it was him or something else.

(But he noticed that she stopped swinging, sat expectantly still when she saw him.)

He sat down on the swing next to her. Her toes skimmed the ground, but his legs were much longer and bended a bit awkwardly. A bird somewhere chirped.

It was a gray spring day, with the threat of rain, but it was warm and slightly humid without being sticky, and smelled the way only spring can smell. With green everywhere, the way green can only look in spring.

"What's wrong?"

She was concerned. She must have figured that it was something bad.

He stared off, seemingly into space.

"Do you want a popsicle?"

She turned her head to look at him. "Eh?"

He nodded into the direction he was staring, at a man with a cart. He was beginning to take it down because of the weather. A couple of children at the other side of the playground gave out faint child-shrieks at the faint call of their mother.

"Okay..."

Kyouya left her on the swings and went to the cart. The man seemed to be surprised by this last customer, but handed him two Orange Cream pops. He brought them back, handed one to her, and idly held his own without even unwrapping it. He just turned it around in his hands, mind occupied with something else.

He saw Haruhi's hands tightened, one around the popsicle stick, one around the side of the swing, and it's only then he realized she was hanging on for dear life.

"It won't storm," he assured her quietly.

She stared down at her shoes.

"They said it wouldn't," she replied, equally quiet.

The park was empty, save for them and the bird, still chirping somewhere.

Kyouya felt a warm droplet of rain on his nose.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" she asked, a little louder and more conversationally. Her hand around the swing side was still white, the other, shaking. She'd licked up the last of the popsicle. Now she carefully made a distraction of re-wrapping the stick and tucking it into her pocket to throw out later.

"Fuyumi brings me here occasionally. She likes it."

The two sat there, just sat there.

Kyouya tensed up, imagining that he'd heard thunder. But, his ears were probably playing a trick on him.

Another droplet. And another. His sleeve had little wet marks on it, thanks to the insolent raindrops leaking out of the sky.

_The rain won't stay stopped up forever._

"Haruhi."

She looked up.

"I love you."

She knew. Of course she knew.

She smiled.

In that moment, the sunlight seemed to break a crack through the clouds and the raindrops, and in retrospect he vaguely remembered that was moment when the rain started falling, just a few more drops, then a few more, and a few more, until it was a proper drizzle.

He leaned closer, leaned over, and brought his lips to meet hers in a kiss.

A kiss.

Her lips were still sticky, and he could almost taste the orange popsicle.

His glasses were getting wet, and his image of her blurring. He pulled away slowly and tried to wipe them with his sleeve, but it was already soaked through. He tucked them in his pocket and looked up at Haruhi.

She sat, frozen on her swing. Her expression didn't change.

But her face went pink, then pinker, then red.

She jerked up to stand, but couldn't seem to find strength to move any further.

He stood, too.

"Well," she said, gathering her wits, "that was…"

"Nice?" he filled in, with no trace of playfulness. His eyes were solemn, overly so, and she almost found herself laughing.

"I don't know," she admitted, her soft-but-sure answer almost drummed out by the drizzle.

She knew.

She just _really _didn't want to realize it.

He paused. Then kissed her again, harder, and this time he could taste the orange and feel how warm and soft her lips were and he hoped she found his lips equally appealing.

But, from the way she kissed him back, she did.

He put his arms around her, and her hands were in his hair.

He didn't know how long they were like that, because time didn't matter and he wasn't counting, anyway.

She let go, pulled only her lips away, softly, and met his eyes. Her face was just barely pink now, and he noticed that her face, her hair, her clothes, were wet. Huh.

_It's raining, _he reasoned absently, _I must be completely drenched, too._

(How completely irrational.)

Again, she smiled. So normal, so very _Haruhi_. Not like some coy maiden from a cheap romance novel – not like Ouran coeds or Tamaki's daughter fantasies.

Because it was Haruhi, it was better than any of those things.

He noticed the sun breaking through the clouds, rain continuing in a light patter, and realized that a rainbow must have been forming somewhere.

(How completely extraordinary.)

"I think I... love you."

He stared at her, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Maybe," she amended hastily, going back to 'pinker'.

For some reason, Kyouya started to laugh. Just laugh. Happily, with no trace of a snicker or a snide thought, with a true smile; a smile and a laugh that had mostly been reserved for Tamaki in the last three years.

It rained and the sun shined and a rainbow formed.

He hugged Haruhi tighter.


End file.
